I like to think I'm not superficial or petty. But it wasn't until my new doctor, an oncologist, told me I would lose my hair that despair reared its ugly, presumably bald, head.
After my fourth round of chemotherapy, I went into what I now refer to as "The Funk Zone." What helped me the most was my ability to put on my nurse's cap (being a nurse was definitely a Silver Lining during my treatment) and assign myself some healthy coping mechanisms.
That phrase broke through the heavy curtain of my grief. Don't go to the funeral today. It even let a little sunshine in. He was right. Unlike a sudden death, we have more time to live together. We have each day.
Cancer isn't one disease, and there isn't one cure. The menu of treatment options includes drugs (chemotherapy), surgery, and radiation; they are often used together or one after another.
"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.
Twenty-seven years have passed, and I'm still enjoying the miracle of being alive every day. I contribute it to a healthier lifestyle and organizing my priorities in life. I learned that accumulating possessions at our health expense are only useless.
If the logistics of preparing for chemo weren't enough, you also have to deal with other people. There's a strange indigenous dance people do... it's a frown-face-hug dance. Have you heard Gangnam style? Do those dances instead.
Why am I telling this story for what feels like the 100th time? Because I think it is important to recognize that I am just like you. I am not a hero. I am not particularly brave. If I could get through what I got through, then anyone can get through anything.
The dual outcome will be not only to meet him where he is, but to be more closely in touch with my own soul. To uncover the joy and all the good things of the soul. To live them consciously.
Every day, Aidan Reed, a five-year-old with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, finds time between his chemotherapy treatments, painful spinal taps and onco...
What one may not so easily anticipate as cancer is the proverbial axe falling on a loved one instead, while you stand helplessly by wishing it could be you, but knowing full well that you do not get to make that choice.
"Cognitive domains" -- That's how mental health experts explain which areas of the brain do what. People who have gone through chemotherapy often take a hit in some of these domain.
Tomorrow is World Elder Abuse Prevention Day. It's a day to appreciate that elders in our society endure abusive behavior every day and to consider ho...
As you read my blogs, keep in mind that these stories, anecdotes and tools are all based around my philosophy for success: THE TURTLE EFFECT (Highligh...
I may never be cured, but eight years later, I am still here. And I am a wife, a mother, a pregnant lady and (pretty much) cancer free. I could never ...
Teresa Heinz Kerry, it has been announced, is being treated for breast cancer. Here are some books that might be helpful in sorting out a course of ac...
"I'm grateful to my cancer for leading me down a path that is better than where I was before. I used to say 'I just want my life back' but I don't want the life I had before back, I just want Life."
Maybe a reality check isn't something you want when you're being bombarded with "Breast Cancer Awareness" messages. After all, that would be kind of scary.
In my own experience as a 36 year-old breast cancer patient and now six-year survivor, yoga was the means by which I began the process of re-connecting with my body.
Yesterday, my mom called to tell me about this book she was reading: The Ten-Year Nap, by Meg Wolitzer. Since these days, most of my reading is done ...