Georgia Hurst

No diet, supplement or vaccine can take away all risk. But using proven approaches gives me a sense of control and confidence.

When you’re living with a hereditary cancer syndrome, where you get your information matters just as much as the information itself.

The story of prevention doesn't end with a surgery date or a clean scan — it unfolds over decades, shaped by habits, choices and vigilance.

As a Lynch syndrome previvor, I felt that the film “Love, Danielle” struck a deeply personal chord.

Oct. 1, Previvor Day, acknowledges us who carry a hereditary cancer syndrome or genetic mutation that significantly increases our risk of cancer.

Tending my garden and observing nature teaches me resilience, presence, and growth, helping me carry joy and sorrow while living with Lynch syndrome.

Walking the woods shows me how to release fear, grief, and expectations, trusting that letting go nourishes growth, resilience and life’s next season.

What does standing up to cancer mean to me? It means showing up for my life, even knowing that cancer is not a distant possibility but a biological reality.

I share how my friendship with advocate Amy Byer Shainman helped me navigate hereditary cancer, showing that real support comes from empath and honesty.

After ovary removal to prevent cancer, the sudden loss of estrogen reshaped my health and life, showing the need for better care and awareness for women like me.

Living with Lynch syndrome, nature’s quiet resilience teaches me to accept change, find calm, and stay rooted through life’s unexpected twists and storms.

Eminem’s lyric about having “one shot” stayed with me, and writing this letter to my newly diagnosed self, reminds me how that mindset saved my life.

As a Lynch syndrome previvor, I feel deep gratitude to witness my son’s graduation — a milestone my brother never lived to see with his own child.

Unplugging from digital noise helped me find peace, clarity and room for growth during a season of emotional and mental renewal.

What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Stardust or seafoam, flower or winged air. ― Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Living with Lynch isn't easy, but it's not all doom and gloom. It's a call to live deliberately.

A Lynch syndrome diagnosis shook my world. Here is what I wish I was told from the get-go.

Quitting drinking alcohol was so important for my well-being and also decreases the threat of developing certain cancers, especially with Lynch syndrome.

While strolling through the woods, my eyes landed on a woodpecker, whose actions sparked a cancer analogy in my mind.

When I have scanxiety, I try to reduce my anxiety by taking warm baths and writing.

Although many hate drinking the prep for colonoscopies, I view it as a privilege.

After being diagnosed with Lynch syndrome, uncertainty has become a constant companion of mine.

Today, on what would have been Jimmy's 65th birthday, I choose to celebrate his life rather than dwell on the pain of his loss from cancer.

Growing up in a dysfunctional family left the holidays with little to be desired.

Life after an oophorectomy isn't easy.

I embarked on my journey as a patient advocate for individuals with hereditary cancer syndromes after experiencing the underestimated consequences of prophylactic measures meant to prevent gynecological cancers.

Once a friendship turned toxic, I had to put myself first.

Over the years, I have found social media to be a powerful tool for connecting people with Lynch syndrome.

Once the lid came off Pandora's Jar, I had a lot to learn to live with, and it has not been easy.

Living with a hereditary cancer diagnosis, it is crucial that I prioritize my physical and mental health.