Blogs

I reflect on the support and love that carried me through my sister’s cancer and her death, expressing deep gratitude this Thanksgiving.

I reflect on a year of healing, family, and meaningful rituals while setting intentions for 2026 with vision, consistency and awakening.

My dog Chloe had a lump that scared us, but it turned out to be a benign lipoma. Surgery went well, and she’s now fully healed and playful again.

For people who are expected or required to be compassionate in their everyday life or work they should start by training in compassion.

I share how ikebana, silence and intentional space have helped me live with chronic leukemia, anxiety and uncertainty between appointments.

Breast cancer survivors who continue to deal with high-risk factors in a remaining breast need to be proactive about medical protocols that fit a high-risk survivor’s needs.

Five years after finishing treatment for follicular lymphoma, I reflect on remission, scanxiety, life changes, and the joys and challenges of recovery.

I reflect on caregiving, loss and gratitude, honoring the people who supported me through my sister’s cancer and my first Thanksgiving without her.

Cancer survivorship invites deeper questions about what we allow into our bodies, our homes, and the lives of those we love most.

Christmas is my favorite time of year. Since my child was diagnosed with cancer, however, the only gift I want is one more Christmas with her being here.

I have been diagnosed with breast cancer for the third time, and I find it interesting how the places where I seek support have changed over time.

Losing an online friend to cancer reminded me that grief is real even across screens and that survivor guilt and gratitude can coexist in the same moment.

All I want for Christmas is to talk to and hear from as many readers and writers about their cancer experiences and their lives as I can.

Since I was diagnosed with a brain tumor in 1998, I have endured highs and lows, including fearful dives, not knowing if I could live. I learned despair is a great teacher.

Living with chronic cancer means navigating the holidays with extra caution — but also with deeper gratitude for every moment I’m able to show up.

It’s been two-and-a-half years since I “rang the bell” on the Oncology ward, signaling that I had ended my chemotherapy treatment.

I usually write about my daughter’s cancer, but my friend’s stage 4 breast cancer journey showed me the limits of strength and the need for help.

As I reflect on my lung cancer journey, I look back to the 2018 holiday season, feeling comfortable and at peace.

I attended this year’s Light the Night walk in remembrance of my sister, reflecting on her 11-year battle and enduring identity as a cancer survivor.

I struggle to understand why people support policies and leaders that make healthcare less affordable and accessible for everyone.

After cancer, even your closet tells a story you never imagined living. One quiet afternoon, that story took a hilarious and unexpected turn.

I believe time to be a gift, and as such, my sister was gifted more than a decade despite a terminal illness, and I do have gratitude for that.

Facing my cancer diagnosis, I learned it’s okay not to be okay and found comfort in laughter, honesty, and the support of loved ones.

I’ve lived with stage 4 breast cancer for 11 years, and each day brings gratitude for my family, my oncologist, and the care that keeps me going.

I experienced acute myeloid leukemia twice. Had it not been for follow up appointments I would not be here.

I share how my sister’s final days felt different from her many rebounds and how I continue to process the grief of losing her after years of anticipation.

I found purpose again after my myeloma diagnosis when I returned to teaching and shared my work, moments that reminded me I could still grow and reconnect.