Stage 4 colon cancer shook her. But there’s a soccer season to coach.

Since she was the only child in her town who would dive for a ball, Keiller’s life has revolved around soccer as a player, coach, wife, mother and fan. After taking over Quince Orchard’s program in 1999, Keiller propelled the Cougars’ to two state championships and built a reputation as a top Montgomery County coach.

When Keiller was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer at 49 last year, she leaned on her lifelong passion to power through treatment and her future’s uncertainty.

Now, Keiller doesn’t take any moment on the field for granted. When Quince Orchard was seconds from playing rival Northwest — a time she previously wouldn’t have become distracted — Keiller appreciated the return of her hair after chemotherapy.

“Peg needed soccer,” said Keiller’s husband, Sean. “If it’s working on a lineup or seeing what the students are doing at school, she has to be busy.”

An obsession

There wasn’t enough interest for a girls’ soccer program at Keiller’s Merrillville, Ind., high school in the late-1980s, and Keiller said leadership prohibited her from playing with boys. Her senior year, the school hired a new principal, Michael Cerretto.

“Are you going to try out for soccer?” Cerretto asked Keiller.

“No, why would I do that?” Keiller responded. “I’ve never been allowed.”

“I think you should,” Cerretto replied.

After joining the team and later playing goalkeeper at the College of the Holy Cross, Keiller wanted to create similar opportunities for girls. When Keiller got Quince Orchard’s job as a 26-year-old, Sean learned he’d practically be single every fall.

In October 2006, Keiller was scheduled to undergo a Caesarean section for her youngest son, Kieran, during the Maryland playoffs. To avoid missing a game, Keiller fibbed that she required the procedure earlier to visit her mother. Four days after the C-section, Keiller was coaching Quince Orchard’s first postseason game.

“You don’t get paid a lot for being a coach in Montgomery County for soccer,” said Sean, who met Keiller after an adult-league game at the Corner Kick, a former indoor soccer facility in Gaithersburg. “You just have to love what you do.”

During an early-season practice in 2007, Keiller was so frustrated with her team’s performance she left in the middle of drills. She was known for her unvarnished team speeches. That November, the Cougars won their second 4A championship.

Keiller perennially led Quince Orchard to the state playoffs, including trips to the championship game in 2008 and semifinals in 2017.

In August 2021, while traveling with her family in Montana, she noticed blood in her digestive tract. She underwent a colonoscopy in Rockville in September, two days before Quince Orchard’s season-opener. When Keiller awoke, the doctor displayed unexpected news: A scan of tumors in her colon and liver, which he said likely indicated cancer.

A nurse walked Keiller to Sean’s Toyota Sequoia in the parking lot. She and Sean cried there for a half-hour while uncertainty consumed her: Will I lose my hair? How will the kids deal with this? Will I be able to coach through this?

The following week, Keiller received her cancer diagnosis after a CT scan. The news came minutes after she learned her father-in-law, Peter, who had endured blood cancer for 14 years, died after suffering a stroke.

Roller coaster season

In September 2021, Keiller told her players to meet in a classroom for a film session. When they arrived, players believed they were in trouble because the school’s principal, athletic director and counselors were present.

Instead, the meeting resulted in sobbing and hugs after Keiller delivered news of her diagnosis. A similar scene occurred a day earlier, when Keiller informed her sons — Liam, 17, and Kieran, 15 — both of whom acquired Keiller’s soccer passion.

Keiller, who’s an occupational therapist for Montgomery County, previously stowed her phone in her backpack an hour before games. About 20 minutes before a home game last October, Keiller answered a call from a doctor. She couldn’t hear over the pregame announcements, so she ran to the parking lot to crouch between cars.

After each of her biweekly chemotherapy sessions in the fall, Keiller missed one or two practices. Athletic Director Jeffrey Rabberman installed cameras at the top of the bleachers so Keiller could watch remotely. Sometimes, players and assistant coaches waved.

“It was just weird to miss,” Keiller said. “I’ve never missed a game, and I could probably count on one hand the number of practices I’ve missed. I’m used to being there and controlling everything.”

For the first time since she was pregnant, Keiller sat on a foldable chair during games and instructed assistants to yell instructions. Her empathy evolved, too. Goalkeeper Carly Schaechter felt nervous before a game last October when Keiller pulled her aside.

“I chose you to be on this team for a reason,” Keiller told Schaechter. “You deserve to be on the field.”

After researching the low life-expectancy for her cancer, Keiller ensured that her husband, Quince Orchard’s junior varsity boys’ soccer coach, had access to the family’s bank and retirement information. She wondered how her family would handle her death.

Keiller’s soccer connections helped. Ariel Nehemiah, a former player who’s a surgical resident, coordinated Keiller’s colon and liver surgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital in February. Parents of current and former players organized daily meals for Keiller and erected her Christmas lights. Northwest boys’ soccer coach, Kert Mease, drove Keiller to and from chemotherapy appointments. County rivals conducted cancer awareness games.

The program’s longtime “make them flinch first” mantra transformed to “make cancer flinch first.” In November, parents organized an alumni game to raise money for Keiller, who was overwhelmed by former players’ kindness.

One drug Keiller consumed, Oxaliplatin, caused hypersensitivity to cold temperatures. Rabberman arranged for Quince Orchard’s state semifinals game at Gaithersburg High to be played on an afternoon last November. Keiller wore at least two layers across her body, but she struggled to speak as her face felt frozen in 40-degree weather.

When they lost, players believed they disappointed Keiller.

“I thanked them for making the season last as long as it did,” Keiller said. “It made it easier for me to get through what I was going through and made me look forward to every day. It could have been a lot different for me had I not had that.”

New perspective

Last December, Keiller traveled to Orlando with Liam for a soccer tournament. Fearful of contracting the coronavirus, Keiller quarantined in a rented condo instead of watching in-person. She coped by watching Manchester United F.C. and “Ted Lasso,” a soccer comedy-drama.

After continuing treatment, Keiller texted her players this past June: “I have some news.”

She surprised them by continuing: “I just want to let you all know I’m cancer free. My last scan was clear.”

When Nehemiah, a 2008 Quince Orchard graduate, visited a practice in August, she noticed Keiller’s calm demeanor and banter.

“Gosh, Peg,” Nehemiah told Keiller. “They don’t know how good they have it.”

Fifteen minutes into that game against Northwest last week, Keiller pushed the metal foldable chair on the sideline away from her. With Quince Orchard trailing by a goal at halftime, Keiller gathered her players on the track.

“Hey, relax,” she told them. “Is it over? No. We fight back into it. We got this.”

The typically cliche message holds significance for Quince Orchard’s players after witnessing Keiller attend practices and games exhausted last year. But the Cougars would fall, 2-0.

Losses still sting. Keiller stresses about the possibility of the cancer returning, so she focused on enjoying the remainder of her night. After grabbing her backpack — which features a dark blue ribbon signifying awareness for colon cancer — she hugged Sean and her sons.

Kieran, a sophomore at Quince Orchard, wanted driving practice. Keiller, who has learned to provide herself grace after defeats, reclined in the passenger seat as Kieran drove her red Honda CR-V around the school parking lot.

Keiller would anticipate the next afternoon’s practice, when she would ponder a possible rematch against Northwest.

“The girls are excited about the potential. I can’t remember the last time we didn’t play them in the playoffs, so we might get our chance,” Keiller said with a sigh. “We’ll see.”