Psychosocial

Survivors with children face some of the biggest challenges when it comes to visualizing the future. After my breast cancer diagnosis in 1986, it was my daughter's future, rather than my own, for which I bargained.

A geneticist I never met in person saved my life by insisting my gastroenterologist do a new colonoscopy. Had it not been for Mellissa Clarkson, I would have battled a new cancer that may have been discovered too late.

I never fully understood how ingrained my children were in my soul until I had to give serious thought to the end of my own life, and I knew I didn't want to face it without them.

While celebrating Christmas this year, there was a moment that really surprised me. My youngest stepson said something about being sorry he wasn’t more help when I was going through cancer.

As cancer once again robbed me of the chance to make the holiday memories I had hoped for, it took a kid eating frozen pizza on Christmas Eve to remind me what really mattered.

I often joke in training classes on aging that with every new candle on my birthday cake, a new medicine bottle shows up in my cabinet.