Survivorship

Sex and Relationships

How exactly do you tell someone, “Oh, by the way, my eggs got blasted from chemo therapy, and I will never be able to have my own kids”? And when exactly is the best time to bring this up? First date? Third date? Right before or in the middle of getting busy?

Cancer and A Broken Heart

I spent most of my life before cancer on the outside. I was an observer rather than a participant. Much of that was the severe anxiety I was drowning in, but that’s not all of it. All of the things I enjoy most could be easily considered documenting. I’m a writer. I’m a photographer. I am even something of a musician.

Cancer is Cancer

Cancer is cancer. It doesn’t matter whether it’s below the belt or above the belt. The toxicity around word usage related to it is a problem. People get, and too often die, following silence and embarrassment from lack of validation either from themselves, others, or both.

Reconstruction: A Never-Ending Story

My mastectomy scars started out as the midnight blue of my surgeon’s pen, deftly scrawling the path of his scalpel on the white canvas of my chest. After he came, drew, and left, I found myself in front of the mirror over the sink of the pre-op bathroom, staring at the roadmap he’d sketched. I was met with an array of curved and straight lines; dictating symmetry, outlining what would be kept and not kept, and measuring how long, how wide, and how far down.

I Hate Thursdays

I hate Thursdays. I can’t say there isn’t a day in the week where I’m not reminded about my experience, where I’m not facing the reality of everything I’ve been through, where a simple butterfly motif or a duck waddling past won’t bring tears to my eyes or where a small bruise won’t send me into a panic. But Thursdays, Thursdays are the worst.

Am I Still Loveable?

Whether you’re in a long-term relationship, an undefinable situationship, a dating app phase, or you’re happily single, it’s extremely common to feel like cancer tarnished your dateability. Cancer comes into our lives like a tornado and rips down the homes we once called our bodies, leaving a pile of rubble in the aftermath. The emotional and physical baggage we are left with often feels like it’s made us undesirable.

CannaMoms Can

It is high time to abolish the stigma attached to cannabis-using parents. I am a proud bong-ripping, bowl-roasting, dry-vaping, joint-smoking mama that LOVES my kids to the ends of the universe. 

I am a CannaMom. 

Judgments, side-eyes, whispers, unsolicited advice…I face these criticisms far too often. Simply because I choose to be a CannaMom. 

Cancer and Creativity

Can pencils cure cancer? Of course not, but drawing with them helped me illustrate and express my cancer trauma. Their colors and potential were a powerful force. It wasn’t obvious at first. Yet the creativity of cartooning with pencils became an important part of my cancer odyssey.

Sleeping with My Caregiver

Naked and ashamed, I just want to hide. I want to be alone. I don’t want what he wants. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I lay there hoping this time will be different. This time, I will be more into him. Maybe it won’t hurt, or I won’t bleed. Maybe cancer won’t have the final say.

The Luckiest Girl Around

I’ve spent a lot of time in my adult life joking about being cursed. Let’s face it, based on my track record, it’s an applicable joke.

When I was diagnosed with my first cancer over a decade ago, I was so damn scared. God, how I begged the Universe. Please, please no. Not this. But of course, the Universe doesn’t work that way, and cancer it was.