Blogs

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 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.

A stamp on my Christmas cards stirred deep memories and reminded me that small actions can make a meaningful impact in the fight against breast cancer.

Feeling like others have it worse can dismiss the real challenges of follicular lymphoma and leave patients without the support they need.

I love flowers, and I especially love the Japanese tradition of ikebana. In Japanese culture, ikebana is the art of flower arrangement.

As we’re about to celebrate Thanksgiving 2025, I’d like to honor someone for whom I’m grateful – my son, Thomas. 

Bernadette’s strength and optimism lifted me through my own cancer journey and reminded me how much one person’s compassion can change how I move through each day.

Surviving breast cancer changes the way you see your body. Every ache, every spot, every unfamiliar sensation becomes a quiet question: “Could it be coming back?”

I share how the holidays feel different after loss and how grief, love and gratitude can coexist as I navigate this season with gentleness and care.

I share how the nurses who cared for my daughter during chemotherapy brought comfort, connection and humanity that carried us through our hardest moments.

After surviving testicular cancer, I feel like I was given a second chance at life. Although given challenges, I have learned to be resilient and face adversity head-on.

I reflect on my brain tumor journey, sharing how gratitude, love and connection with my parents and others strengthened me through difficult times.