I was suddenly spurned out into the churning, frenetic nature of Manhattan with beguiling news. I had cancer. And pretty bad, too.

Many of us are young, single and have our whole lives ahead of us -- dating, sex and love should not be off the table.

"I discussed your desire to swim the Channel with the doctors on the tumor review board, and I'm sorry, but no one believes that you will be able to do it. The fatigue from the chemo will be too great." I looked at my husband and thought they don't know me.

I still remember the day I found out.

By Jessica Ashley This article first appeared on GalTime.com I am afraid of my breasts. I haven't always been and I don't want to be. But over ti...

I did it for a lot of good reasons, but most of all for Lucy. This affects her now too. My surgery is Oct. 10. It's one day before she turns 6. Hopefully, I'll be coming home that day. She said it's okay because I'll probably be bringing her a present, "as long as it's light" she added.

What's wrong with the pink ribbon anyway? I've been asked this question more than a few times. It seems like a fair question, so I thought I'd share some thoughts about why the pink ribbon has lost its appeal to many, including me.

Twenty-five years ago, I sat in my doctor's office and heard these words: You have breast cancer. That was in 1987, when the world's population reached five billion, a gallon of gas was 89 cents, Ronald Reagan was president and the FDA approved AZT for AIDS.