
I was surprised and saddened at how some of my friends were not there for me when I was undergoing cancer treatment. The oncology ward became a lonely place.

I was surprised and saddened at how some of my friends were not there for me when I was undergoing cancer treatment. The oncology ward became a lonely place.

I use the word "previvor" a lot, so I wanted to take a minute to reflect on what that means.

The best part of the trip was that I didn’t think about cancer. My husband and I didn’t talk about it for a whole week, and no one knew I had it.

An ultrasound revealed a solid mass in my breast that would need further follow-up.

Cancer-related can be consuming, so my sister and I make sure to celebrate the little victories along the way.

Throughout my cancer experience — and my entire life — there were many people who came in and saved my life.

Is it always one or the other? Can good news in one person’s cancer experience do good for the community?

I’m 16 years out from my breast cancer diagnosis, but every now and then, panic still creeps up on me.

It’s essential that I maintain a sense of urgency, as well as long-term stamina, in my cancer survivorship.

As a cancer survivor, I feel that the song, "Here comes the sun" can inspire us all.

After being diagnosed with mesothelioma and undergoing a long surgery, I wanted to do it all, but I just couldn’t. Family and friends stepped in to help.

After receiving clean cancer scans, I rewarded myself with a trip to the thrift shop.

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.

After leaving the hospital, I craved the security and support my cancer care team provided me.

When survivorship becomes long-term, it can be an adjustment to move from active treatment to periodic surveillance.

When I was first diagnosed, I wasn’t sure what kind of support to ask for, but now I’m thankful to have many wonderful forms of support around me.

After hearing others' cancer stories, I found myself feeling "less than" because I didn't undergo radiation and chemotherapy.

The day I got diagnosed with cancer, I went from “person” to “patient” — and the title has followed me ever since.

After being diagnosed with aggressive bone cancer, I had to accept that much of my life was going to change.

I learned that self-advocacy is not about proving an oncology wrong or deciding that one drug is better than the other. It’s about speaking up for what you think is right.

While I wouldn’t say that my cancer-related hospital stays were fun, I did my best to maintain a positive attitude and make the best of them.

Sometimes, hundreds of pages of cancer information still just doesn’t connect with the person who needs it.

I’m happy to be alive and thankful for all that I have, but cancer and the COVID-19 pandemic has taken so much from me, physically, emotionally and financially.

While waiting for my daughter to get a prophylactic cancer surgery, I sketched a cartoon that I hope will get people talking about hereditary cancer risks.

People who have never experienced cancer may think that life continues as normal after treatment is done, but that’s far from reality.

After being diagnosed with Lynch syndrome, a hereditary cancer syndrome, I saw my imperfect situation as an opportunity to educate and connect with others.

After being diagnosed with cancer and taking a look at all the stuff I accumulated, I began to think about my priorities in life.

The way I see it, double the cancer diagnoses means double the victory.

I’m reflecting on the distant past — a time before my cancer diagnoses.