She found quality care close to home

Wanda Ochei, a 60-year-old Bushkill resident, has built her life on clear communication. As a higher education professional for more than 30 years, she’s dedicated her career to helping students navigate their futures. She’s a traveler, a music lover and an independent woman who journals and knows her own mind. 

But on a July morning in 2024, everything changed in an instant.

The room began to spin. She couldn’t stand. Her blood pressure was dangerously high. She texted her sister in Maryland, then dialed 911.

“I’d never had that feeling before in my life,” she recalls.

When the paramedics arrived and asked which hospital she wanted, she didn’t hesitate. “I want to go to Geisinger,” she told them.

That choice, made in a moment of fear and uncertainty, shaped everything that came next.

The moment everything became clear

In Geisinger’s emergency room, the team worked to stabilize her severe hypertension. Their demeanor cut through Ms. Ochei’s fear. 

“It was a hectic, kind of chaotic scene, but the team was very steady,” Ms. Ochei says. “And because they weren’t frantic… I was more relaxed and knew I had made the best choice.”

After a chest X-ray, a CAT scan raised a new suspicion. Maria Torquato, PA-C, told Ms. Ochei the doctor needed an MRI for a clearer picture. Ms. Ochei asked if she could speak with the doctor who reviewed the scan. Moments later, Philip Lee, MD, PhD, a neurosurgeon, walked into her room. 

What happened next wasn’t just a medical consultation. It was the beginning of a relationship built on something Ms. Ochei desperately needed: trust. 

“He was a very thorough communicator, very sensitive, very calming,” Ms. Ochei remembers. He didn’t just tell her what he saw; he showed her. On the screen, he pointed to the spot and explained the two most likely possibilities: an aneurysm or a mass. An MRI would provide the answer. 

But it was the way he communicated that made all the difference. He treated her not just as a patient, but as “a real person that was going through something.”

“It was at that moment, it was just, I trust this man,” she says.

The MRI confirmed that there was a large, benign tumor called a meningioma located between her skull and the lining of her brain. It had likely been growing for years, quietly causing a series of falls she’d brushed off as clumsiness. 

For now, Dr. Lee recommended watching and waiting.

When waiting was no longer an option

Over the next few months, Ms. Torquato became Ms. Ochei’s lifeline. Regular check-in calls made Ms. Ochei feel she wasn’t alone. But by her next MRI in January 2025, the tumor had changed. It was growing.

Dr. Lee laid out the options. Waiting could make the surgery more difficult later. He encouraged her to think about it. 

For Ms. Ochei, the decision was instant. She thought about her independence, her need to drive and care for herself without the threat of vertigo.

“I maybe counted to 3,” she recalls, “and I said, ‘Doctor, let’s get it out.’”

For Dr. Lee, witnessing that moment of resolve was a testament to the time they had spent building a foundation of transparency. "She accepted that this is a necessary thing to do,” Dr. Lee says, “and she had the courage to do it." 

Faith in the hands of her care team

In April 2025, during pre-op, Ms. Ochei’s sister and best friend stood beside her hospital bed. A woman of deep faith, Ms. Ochei had a request. She asked Dr. Lee, the anesthesiology team and her family to join hands around her bed for a prayer.

What happened next still brings tears to her eyes. 

“People actually held hands around my bed and prayed with me,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. Her sister, peeking, saw that every person had their head bowed. “It brought her comfort to see that… we were all in agreement that this was going to be a successful endeavor.”

That moment of shared humanity calmed her. “I did not go into that surgery apprehensive,” she says. “I went in saying I made the right choice and I have never, never wavered on that.”

The surgery was complex, taking 6 hours, as Dr. Lee worked with painstaking precision to remove a tumor that clung to her brain “like Velcro.” But the result was a success. Ms. Ochei woke up alert, talking and asking what was for dinner. 

Even as she recovered in the hospital, Ms. Ochei’s energy was unmistakable. Dr. Lee recalls that her drive never slowed, even in the days after surgery.

“She told me she was still recovering, with staples in her head, while doing a virtual job interview,” he says. “She had a lot of major life changes happening at once, which was stressful, but she was very pleased with how everything went.”

A few days after she returned home, Dr. Lee called her with the pathology results. “He says, ‘Wanda, I’m so happy to tell you that pathology came back clear,’” she remembers.

She didn’t need radiation or chemotherapy. She had clear results and a clean slate. 

That personal call was another moment of profound appreciation. “It just further made me understand that I made the best choice.”

Living breathing proof

Today, you wouldn’t know Ms. Ochei had brain surgery unless she told you. The scar is nearly invisible, and she says her cognitive ability feels even sharper now. And in a twist that feels almost poetic, she started a new job at the Geisinger School of Medicine working with the next generation of doctors at the institution that saved her life.

When friends hear her story, they ask if she traveled to a big city for her care. Her answer is swift and sure. "You think you’ve got to get in your car and pay to get physicians in a different state, in a different city, in a different part of Pennsylvania? You don’t. It’s right here in your backyard. And I am living, breathing proof of that.’”

For Ms. Ochei, the experience was more than a medical success. It was about discovering a healthcare team that saw her as a whole person — mind, body and spirit. 

“I didn’t feel powerless. I felt empowered,” she says. It’s a message she wants to share, especially with others who might be hesitant to seek care. “It’s not only my story,” she says. “It’s my testimony.”

Next steps: 

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