This afternoon, a baby bear rambled past my window. That’s just about the most exciting thing to happen to me today. Oh, and I wasn’t diagnosed with cancer for the 10th June 6th in a row. That’s pretty remarkable and yet not exactly a “cancerversary.” That comes in November when, if all goes well, I’ll […]
Welcome, Mere Mortal of Cancer. Welcome to where we’ve all been.
I started my F-it List while waiting to find out if I was in remission, or if I’d spend a month in the hospital having a bone marrow transplant.
I’m pretty much no longer concerned about my cancer coming back, now I’m worried about new ones popping up, courtesy of the very treatments that had saved my life eight years ago.
Saying, “If you need my help, I’m here,” is a nice start, but many people don’t know what to ask for.
I was very careful about the words I chose to explain to my children what was happening to us.
We both fought for our lives, for the right to see our kids grow up, but the odds were stacked against him from the start.
I was nervous to ask my teens what I did right and what I did wrong the summer (and fall) I had lymphoma when it came to parenting with cancer.
Somehow, our society has accepted as conventional wisdom that children have superior powers to work through emotional trauma on their own.
When Linsey Godfrey started feeling tired and cold last fall, she had a choice: take a pregnancy test or call her oncologist.