
When you put your feelings out there in cancer support groups — be it in-person or virtual — you’re opening your ideas up to others’ interpretation, and some might not like what you have to say.

When you put your feelings out there in cancer support groups — be it in-person or virtual — you’re opening your ideas up to others’ interpretation, and some might not like what you have to say.

Anger is a reaction to injustice, which cancer certainly is. Sometimes I wished there was a place in the cancer treatment centers to let that rage out.

When my brother was diagnosed with cancer, I faced challenges of reliving my own journey while trying to help him know what to expect.

From Plan A and B to “donut coverage,” choosing a Medicare plan is frustrating — especially when considering the costs of a cancer diagnosis.

As I go in for another cancer follow-up, I need to remind myself that what could happen is different from what would happen.

After experiencing cancer, I feel a profound sense of empathy for others in tough situations, from the war in Ukraine to COVID-19.

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.”

I was never a gambler … that is, until I was diagnosed with cancer.

Finding a swimsuit if you have not chosen reconstruction after breast cancer can be a challenge, but there are many ways to find what best works for you.

Should I mention my daughter’s cancer diagnosis, or keep people blissfully unaware, and say that we’re all doing fine?

I can’t stand the “battle language” of cancer, including terms like “cancer warrior” and “losing the battle” with the disease.

When it comes to both COVID-19 precautions and life with cancer, I feel like I have to sacrifice some privacy to gain understanding from the people around me.

The cancer experience is far from over when scans turn up clear. Here’s how I deal with triggering reminders of the disease.

With Mother’s Day upon us, I’m advocating for better genetic cancer screening so that no more children are motherless on this day.

After my sister was re-diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, I was reminded to find laughter in every day because nobody knows what tomorrow holds.

A recent injury reminded me that I could be dropped into the “cancer blender” at any time, though I should not focus on all the “what ifs.”

Nobody prepared me for the hardest part of my cancer experience — the toll it would have on my 6-year-old son.

I used to love spending time outdoors during the warm weather, but when I started getting hot flashes after my cancer-related oophorectomy, enjoying hot days got a bit trickier.

Since being diagnosed with breast cancer, I’ve been vigilant about reading the labels of items I buy to see if they contain carcinogens, but I never thought about the potential chemicals in my drinking water... until recently.

John Wayne coined the term, “the Big C,” for cancer, but I think it’s time that the capital letter C stands for something better.

Throughout my cancer experience, I’ve relied heavily on friends and family for support. But as they are moving on and starting families of their own, I realized how much time I’ve lost to cancer.

Well-meaning comments can come off as bothersome — or even hurtful — to me as I navigate cancer.

Before being diagnosed with neuroendocrine cancer, I started to live a healthier life and took notice of some concerning symptoms.

If there was a certain diet that could prevent my daughter from going through the perils of chemotherapy, she’d do it in a heartbeat. But science doesn’t back the sugar-feeds-cancer myth.

After my breast cancer metastasized to my lungs, I was put on a PARP inhibitor, which caused an unexpected side effect that, unfortunately, happens like clockwork.

There are so many things I wish I’d known before being diagnosed with breast cancer, but if I’d known them all in advance, I wouldn’t have learned many valuable lessons.

As the COVID-19 pandemic seems to be winding down, I’ll still be masking up, knowing that it could return as quickly as it left.

My wife and I took a weekend break from the worries of cancer and everyday life, but things did not go as planned, forcing me to tap into all the self-work I’ve been focusing on this year.

After going public with my cancer diagnosis, I was met with an onslaught of “grief tourists” who may not have been interested in the harsh realities of cancer.

A trauma therapist who specializes in cancer would have been helpful for my wife and I as we navigated her cancer experience, but the option was never discussed at our health care visits.