A Marine's last battle

When Susan Zeier answered the call about another veteran being denied critical cancer treatment, the story was hauntingly familiar. Zeier, whose son-in-law, Sgt. First Class Heath Robinson died in 2020 after a brutal fight with burn pit-related cancer, has become one of the nation's most outspoken advocates for veterans exposed to toxic smoke from military-maintained burn pits during deployments. Robinson's suffering led to the passage of the PACT Act, a landmark law meant to guarantee care for those poisoned by burn pits. But as Zeier, a Sandusky resident, watched the case of Marine veteran Sgt. Kevin Lloyd unfold in Texas this summer, she said it felt like history was repeating itself. "I was so angry and upset because my family went through this," Zeier said. "Heath died in agony, denied even basic relief. And here we are again, five years later, watching another veteran be denied dignity and care." Fighting for life Lloyd, a Marine who served three tours — two in Afghanistan and one in Iraq — was diagnosed with colorectal cancer in March 2023. His exposure to burn pits was not in doubt — at times, he was ordered to pull unburned metal cans from the pits themselves, inhaling toxins at point-blank range. Initially, Lloyd received treatment under Veterans Health Administration, or VA, care. By June 2024, he was playing football with his three sons, attending their events, and defying the odds. But sudden blindness from a tumor pressing against his optic nerve sent him back to the VA. What followed, his family and advocates say, was a nightmare of delays, denials and bureaucratic indifference. Doctors at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston were prepared to administer a specialized oral chemotherapy that could extend Lloyd's life by months, maybe longer. But the medication sat in the pharmacy for days while the VA refused to approve payment. "It was criminal," Zeier recalled. "Every single day matters when you have cancer, and they wasted five of them while his chemo sat locked away." The human cost of bureaucracy Zeier and fellow advocates rushed to Lloyd's bedside in Houston, meeting with his doctors and family. They learned that the VA had previously treated him for blood clots with blood thinners, only for MD Anderson physicians to discover he never had clots at all. The mistake caused internal bleeding that nearly killed him. Meanwhile, Lloyd's ex-wife Trisha — an RN who shares power of attorney and is his caregiver — battled the VA over approvals, community care access, and even basic pain relief. At one point, the VA removed his IV pain medication, leaving him in excruciating agony. The ordeal sparked outrage online. A video recorded with Lloyd went viral, gaining more than half a million views on TikTok. Pressure from advocates and news coverage forced the VA to release the chemotherapy, but only after a five-day delay that could prove critical. Heath's parallel For Zeier, the trauma of watching Lloyd's suffering brought her back to her own family's darkest days. Her son-in-law was denied a $2,000 medication that could have eased the severe pain caused by his cancer treatment. His wife Danielle bought it out of pocket, but by then Heath was already enduring unrelenting agony. Robinson ultimately died at home in 2020 after hospice arrived unprepared and the VA failed to deliver necessary drugs and equipment, Zeier said. His family was left scrambling for basic supplies, including even bedsheets, as he spent his final hours. "The VA stripped Heath of his dignity when he was dying. And I see it all over again with Kevin," Zeier said, her voice breaking. Underlying both men's stories is a worsening shortage of essential cancer medications in the United States. Hospitals and clinics nationwide report delays, substitutions, or denials as supply chain bottlenecks and cost pressures mount. Zeier believes the VA is rationing care to cut costs, undermining the very purpose of the PACT Act. "They don't value a few more months of life for these veterans," she said. "They see it as waste." A promise unkept The PACT Act, signed into law in 2022 after months of advocating on Capitol Hill, was intended to guarantee toxic-exposed veterans the care they earned. But advocates now say the law is being quietly gutted, its promises eroded by budget cuts and bureaucratic obstruction. Between 2022 and 2024, VA approval rates for burn pit-related claims soared to 75%. Now, denials are mounting again. Lloyd's case, advocates warn, is not an anomaly but a sign of regression. "We fought so that no other family would go through what we went through with Heath," Zeier said. "And yet, here we are. Another veteran is dying, another family is suffering, and the system still doesn't care." A call for accountability As Lloyd clings to life, his family faces the uncertainty of caregiving, housing, and survival. Trisha, his caregiver, is appealing a denial for family care benefits because she is not legally his spouse, despite raising three children with him. For Zeier, the fight is not just for Lloyd but for all veterans betrayed by a broken system. "Every veteran who served in the toxic smoke of burn pits deserves better," she said. "We turned our pain into action with the PACT Act. But unless the VA is held accountable, it will remain just words on paper." VA responds After publication of this story, VA press secretary Pete Kasperowicz submitted this statement: "At no point did VA delay Mr. Lloyd's care. "VA approved Mr. Lloyd for community care at MD Anderson Cancer Center in July, and when use of the chemotherapy drug Lonsurf was raised, VA quickly approved it on Aug. 13. "VA stands ready to offer continued support for Mr. Lloyd and his family."