The Village It Takes - Vitals Magazine

Published: March 19, 2026

By Jeremy Martin

3 min read

On a July day in 2015, Lennie Fillius sat in the office of Elizabeth Bengtson, MD, an oncologist at Dartmouth Cancer Center, listening to her speak. “If you don’t do anything,” she said, “you probably won’t live to see next year.”

Lennie had small B-cell lymphoma—aggressive, fast-moving cancer—with a tumor wrapped around his spine that had already caused compression fractures.

“My goal is to cure you,” Bengtson continued.

And so, the saga began.

Six cycles of R-CHOP chemotherapy lay ahead, plus three inpatient treatments of high-dose methotrexate and twenty days of radiation treatments.

But on the very first day, Lennie already hit a snag.

Right before his first infusion, he began experiencing shortness of breath. So Dr. Bengtson ordered a CT scan, and just as Lennie and his wife, Mary, were about to leave the hospital, Bengtson called. “You’re not going home,” she said. “We’ve got a bed for you.”

Patient awaits cancer treatment. — After years of complex medical treatments, Lennie credits gratitude as one of the most powerful elixirs.

The CT scan found a bilateral pulmonary embolism, which was swiftly treated by Dartmouth Cancer Center oncologist Deborah Ornstein, MD, MS. By January 2016, Lennie kicked off twenty days of radiation, precisely “mapped” to minimize kidney damage and maximize effectiveness against the tumor, thanks to the meticulous efforts of radiation oncologist Nirav Kapadia, MD.

“He went above and beyond,” Lennie says.

By February, his cancer was undetectable.

You Must Be Joking

Seeing Lennie healthy again gave Dr. Bengtson an idea. “You should do The Prouty,” she suggested, referring to Dartmouth Cancer Center’s annual fundraiser.

Do The Prouty…how exactly? Only a couple of months had passed since he had finished radiation. Surely, she was joking.

She was not.

Still tender from treatment, Lennie hopped on his bike and rode 35 miles through the hills of the Upper Valley, raising money to support people going through what he had just overcome.

“I cried [tears of joy] most of the ride,” he said.

Lennie’s done The Prouty every year since—volunteering on Friday and riding on Saturday. Dr. Bengtson, who for years rode the 100-mile route, often bumps into Lennie. “I’ll turn around, and there he is with Mary,” she says. “It’s always such a joy to see them.”

Lightning Strikes Twice

The road to recovery was a bumpy ride. In December 2016, Lennie was diagnosed with basal cell and squamous cell carcinoma on his nose, requiring seven surgeries between 2016 and 2018 by Gary Freed, MD.

Then, after eight years of remission, Lennie was out skiing with Mary in the White Mountains when a familiar lower back pain returned. Lennie beelined to Dr. Bengtson, who quickly found that the cancer had, too.

In September 2022, Dr. Bengtson arranged for an autologous stem cell transplant, where Lennie’s own stem cells would rebuild his immune system after high-dose chemotherapy.

After a month of quarantine on the transplant unit and three months of quarantine at home, Lennie was totally haggard. “It took a lot out of me,” he says.

To recall how much Lennie suffered still pains Dr. Bengtson even now, years later. “He’s been through a lot,” she says quietly. “He really has.”

Man on vacation with his wife. — Mary and Lennie enjoying some well-deserved R&R.

The road twisted again—and again. Lennie was later treated for cardiac issues, with two ablations for AFib, by Daniel Storms, MD, and Rajbir Sangha, MD, as well as for pulmonary complications with bronchiectasis by Richard Enelow, MD.

Despite these obstacles, Lennie appreciates how each caregiver always educated and included him and Mary in treatment decisions, a feeling fortified by honesty. From day one, he asked Dr. Bengtson for no sugarcoating. “And that’s all I got from her and Beth,” he says, referring to Elizabeth Kimtis, MSN, APRN, the nurse practitioner who works alongside Dr. Bengtson. “Just straight off the hip.”

Radical Acceptance

At 76, Lennie is still recovering. His bone marrow is slowly healing, his red blood count chronically low. But he is filled with gratitude. “I don’t even know if I have any bad days now,” he says. “The fact that I’m still here is absolutely amazing.”

Man kayaks on a lake in summer. — Lennie kayaking in summer.

Dr. Bengtson marvels at it. “There were times when he’d come in and was so discouraged. But he never gave up. And I really have to give him the credit. His persistence, his drive, his love of life. He’s a pretty amazing man.”

Lennie would push that credit right back. With his faith in Dr. Bengtson, in Kimtis, in transplant nurses like Kristin Davis, in Dartmouth Health Chaplain Chris Bowen, and every specialist he’s seen, gratitude grew a new kind of energy within him. “That’s what got me through all this.”

All Downhill from Here

This winter, three to four days a week, Lennie and Mary hit the slopes at Bretton Woods, where Lennie once taught skiing for more than 15 years. “We ski as hard as our bodies allow,” he says simply.

Dr. Bengtson smiles when she hears it. “It makes me happy that he can be out there.”

For Lennie, recognizing his caregivers through the Honor a Caregiver campaign is one small way to practice gratitude. He knows this team worked through a pandemic with staff shortages. “There’s really not enough recognition for that.”

And so he honored them all: Bengtson, Kimtis, Davis, Bowen, Ornstein, Kapadia, Freed, Carter, Storms, Sangha, Enelow—the transplant unit staff, the office staff managing endless phone calls, portal messages, referrals, and scheduling.

This village has kept Lennie alive, given him more time on the slopes, more miles on the bike, more days with Mary. “People that come through the doors at Dartmouth for cancer treatment are getting excellent care. I feel like I’m one of the lucky ones,” he says. “Dr. Bengtson told me her goal was to cure me. It’s been almost ten years since that first diagnosis. I’d say she’s doing pretty damn well.”