Blogs

There are many instances where teddy bears can be the key to opening hearts and minds during cancer care.

After running the Boston Marathon at 67, I faced new limits from aging and chronic lymphocytic leukemia — but I’ve found ways to stay strong and resilient.

Connecting with nature through journaling, walking and meditation helped me heal during and after colon cancer treatment.

I reflect on my journey from caregiver to advocate, embracing a future shaped by cancer but no longer defined by it.

Maria, my oncology nurse, inspired lasting change in my life through compassion, wisdom and faith during my cancer surgery and recovery.

Fifteen years after being diagnosed with small lymphocytic lymphoma, I’ve found healing and meaning in the work I love and the life I’m grateful to live.

After my breast cancer treatment, I started a clothing bank to give others free access to recovery items like post-surgery shirts and pillows.

I urge researchers to look into why side effects occur in cancer drugs and to find ways to mitigate them that doesn’t impact their efficacy.

When I saw a study about using AI facial recognition in cancer decision-making headlines, I decided to try my own informal, non-scientific experiment.

I'm a follicular lymphoma survivor, and hearing others name the quiet, lasting changes of life after cancer made me feel seen and understood.

I’ll never forget the unnamed nurse who stayed calm and gentle while treating me during a dangerous post-surgery infection that could have ended my life.

As a Lynch syndrome previvor, I feel deep gratitude to witness my son’s graduation — a milestone my brother never lived to see with his own child.

With proper precautions, international travel and safeguarding an arm with lymphedema are possible. Always prioritize your health and seek medical advice.

As a patient with CLL, I’ve found comfort in teddy bears — first as a chaplain offering solace, now as a patient embracing their quiet presence myself.

Even after many cancer-free years, the fear of recurrence still lingers, and many long-term survivors struggle to keep those thoughts at bay.

I share how I survived multiple myeloma, painful spine fractures and years of recovery to reclaim my independence and vitality.

Summer heat can worsen my lymphedema, but I’ve learned simple ways to stay cool, reduce swelling and protect my arms — here’s what helps me most.

A thoughtless birthday mammogram reminder underscored how the healthcare system ignored my reality of living with metastatic breast cancer.

After cancer, lifelong infusions were tough — until nurse Angela’s care and kindness reminded me that true support can last long after treatment ends.

I’m 22 years out from breast cancer and forever grateful for the nurses who gave me not just treatment but friendship, laughter and a community of hope.

She wore a variety of bright sneakers and occasionally did a cha-cha-cha in them. Her laughter was contagious. Patients smiled. The other nurses smiled.

The strongest connections I’ve made are with others who have also been through their own cancer journeys.

After testicular cancer, I’ve learned to guard my mood, seek small joys and embrace healing and renewal with every sunrise this spring.

Teddy bears offer emotional comfort and connection for adults with cancer, easing anxiety and fostering trust during treatment.

Four years after remission from follicular lymphoma, ongoing fear of relapse, lingering symptoms, and life stressors continue to weigh heavily on me.

A chance meeting with my childhood friend reminded me — and others — that living with cancer means taking things one day at a time.

I reflect on how a generic mammogram reminder overlooked my experience as a breast cancer survivor and how thoughtful messaging could make a difference.

Unplugging from digital noise helped me find peace, clarity and room for growth during a season of emotional and mental renewal.

After a long battle with illness and seeking many specialists, I emphasize the need to self-advocate for ongoing care following my cancer diagnosis.

As spring arrives, I embrace the season’s renewal, reflecting on my journey with cancer and the freedom I’ll feel when I stop my treatment. Life is a gift.