Blogs

Genetic testing is the norm for cancer patients with familial history. How did I let it slip through the crack?

When starting chemotherapy, I was expecting hair and weight loss, but was caught off guard when my mouth began to hurt.

Sure, knowledge is power, but there’s comfort in naïveté, too, when it comes to expectations for cancer care.

Cancer taught me not to worry about the little things.

Artificial intelligence is becoming increasingly popular and can even write generic poems about the cancer experience. However, I feel that they cannot compare to the writings of people who actually lived with the disease.

I recently underwent genetic testing to see if I had any mutations that could be associated with an increased cancer risk.

Lasting guilt gets no one anywhere — especially when it comes to cancer.

I’m mourning the death of a patient with cancer who I had never met in person, yet I loved and admired her just the same.

After my daughter was diagnosed with cancer, I began to share my experiences through writing, and through that I found camaraderie — and heartbreak.

Days before I went on vacation, I learned that my blood cancer might have progressed to a more aggressive disease.

Who would have thought that a small dinosaur toy helped give me the strength to fight metastatic breast cancer?

Before every cancer scan, I used to prepare myself for the worst.

I lost my hair during cancer treatment, but now that it’s growing back, I no longer obviously look like a patient.

Living with a hereditary cancer diagnosis, it is crucial that I prioritize my physical and mental health.

As it turned out, I didn't have to die from my long-term cancer side effects. I only had to feel like I was about to for long enough for the medical profession to finally take notice.

Growing up, I thought that only “bad boys” used marijuana, but after my cancer diagnosis, my perception slowly changed.

Integrating a metastatic breast cancer diagnosis with the life you have takes time and effort.

Sometimes I feel lazy and berate myself instead of admitting that I am ill.

As a mom, I have the “worry gene,” though it got much worse when my daughter was diagnosed with cancer.

For the past nine years, I’ve struggled with waves of overwhelming fear of cancer recurrence. I knew I had an issue, but until recently, wasn’t aware of how much fear was affecting my life.

I was diagnosed with cancer five years ago, and am extremely grateful for the people I met along the way.

With each hike I complete, I feel empowered and reminded that breast cancer — and lingering lymphedema — cannot keep me down.

After being diagnosed with a rare form of cancer — and seeing a clinician who did not know how to treat me — I learned the importance of asking questions to my providers and advocating for myself

I hated the way that hormone drugs made me feel, so I spoke with my loved ones and oncology team and made the difficult decision to stop.

After being no evidence of disease for about a year and a half, I am now fearing that I’m not fearing enough.

I don't remember the first time I heard the word "germline," but I do remember when it became a major part of my life.

After going through grueling cancer treatments, I thought I’d never be back to my old self again. But thankfully, that wasn’t the case.

Before leaving on vacation, I had to make sure I had enough of my cancer medication to last me through the trip.

Looking back on my experiences with leukemia and with alcoholism, I realized that the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous can be applied to life with cancer.

Anything that got in the way of my healing from cancer had to be put on hold.