
For me, standing up to cancer means honoring my wife’s melanoma journey by raising awareness, supporting early detection and research.
Robin Zimmerman is a retired baker living in the Willamette Valley. In 2008, his wife lost her life at the age of 48 after a four-year struggle with melanoma, leaving behind an adult son and preteen daughter. Five years later, he had an early-stage melanoma diagnosed and removed. He now divides his time working part-time at a hospital and as a skin cancer advocate volunteering with multiple organizations.
For me, standing up to cancer means honoring my wife’s melanoma journey by raising awareness, supporting early detection and research.
I felt a kinship with the main character in the book, “A Man Called Ove,” though luckily, I had a purpose after my wife died of melanoma, and that helped to keep me going.
When all is said and done what is important to me was that we did all we could to save her. And when that failed, we did all we could to make her passing as peaceful as possible.
Cancer is talked about more openly nowadays, and while watching a movie with my daughter, a scene portraying a character in hospice care gave me flashbacks to our cancer experience.
I prefer when people respond with empathy when they hear about my wife’s death from cancer, though I’m often met with sympathy first.
I like to think that cancer advocates live the motto of the postal service, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from their swift completion of their appointed rounds.”
Upon reflecting on my late wife's cancer experience, one of my major regrets is not properly saying goodbye.
As a melanoma advocate, I realized that people of color often are not included in research or properly understand their risks for skin cancer. Here’s what I’m doing to change that.
At first, I struggled to keep up with the scientific jargon being presented at a cancer conference, but eventually I hit my stride and now I leave these events with a renewed sense of inspiration.
I learned that a more prominent obstacle that we need to navigate is getting past the assumption that having a darker skin tone protects people from skin cancer.
A cancer survivor explains how his holiday traditions changed after his wife was sick with and eventually died from cancer, and why each changing tradition holds a special place in his heart.
A man who lost his wife to cancer explains the positive attitude she had during treatment and how she came to reach acceptance of her prognosis.
Society helps move progress forward in cancer research, causing one survivor to ask, “How can I pay back that debt?”
A man who lost his wife due to cancer explains how it changed the trajectory of his family’s lives. He writes, “The question will still weigh on me at times, often in a religious or philosophical sense – was this the plan all along?”
A melanoma survivor and former caregiver analyzes the way society’s labels shape our behaviors and identities.
“There is every reason sunscreen can be promoted on what it does in its ability to reduce your risk of skin cancers over its cosmetic application to prevent the signs of aging,” writes a melanoma survivor.
A man who lost his wife to melanoma explains how he channeled his grief into advocacy that led to a change in legislation.
A melanoma survivor pens a poem about his cancer journey, losing his wife to melanoma and how he lives his life after these experiences.
Which story – of hope or fear – is the best experience to relate to help another?
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