Blogs

In the immediate instance — and that’s where life is lived — I won’t spend my energy fighting against cancer. But that does not mean I don’t care. 

I didn’t know that starting a blog and turning to social media at the age of 30 after a cancer diagnosis would be so beneficial. But, I’m glad it turned out that way.

I can’t imagine not seeing my sister during her blood cancer treatment, but I also struggle to picture the effects of infecting her with COVID-19.

When I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, I was comforted by a simple phrase my oncologist told my husband.

I haven’t seen many 10-year triple-positive breast cancer survivors in my online support groups, but I can’t help but wonder: will my daughter be the one?

I was told that I would miscarry my pregnancy, but continued to feel more pregnant, leading to my molar pregnancy diagnosis — a condition I’ve never heard of before. 

I’ve always received impeccable care at my cancer center, but a recent experience made me feel like I was no longer a priority.

Cancer is a dangerous disease that comes with many difficult decisions, making me constantly feel like I’m living on the edge.

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 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.