Until cancer, I’d led an uneventful life, health-wise. One small broken bone in my hand was the extent of the injuries incurred through 10 years of year-round competitive athletics, from middle school through college. In adulthood, over the course of 25 years, I only stepped foot in a hospital to pay a visit to someone else, the birth of my son being the sole exception. In short, I didn’t think about medical care because I never needed to. Other people got sick, not me.

Then cancer struck,...