AYA Cancer

My Medicine for My Medicines

Cannabis is commonly known by one of its aliases: Weed, Marijuana, Pot, Mary Jane, Ganja, Chronic, Loud, among many others. However, I like to refer to Reefer as my Plant Medicine.

To me, it is undeniable that cannabis is the most heroic plant on earth. I use it for its magnificent healing, analgesic, and anti-inflammatory properties. I love its perfume – a heavenly, aromatic bouquet, with slight, yet noticeable, variations between strains. It is my most treasured plant. 

Cancer Mandates NOW

I shot out of college like a rocket, a Summa Cum Laude feminist hellbent on shattering the glass ceiling. A la Sheryl Sandberg, I “Leaned In” so hard I mistakenly buried my altruism until cancer forced my eyes wide open. I had set my sight on becoming a tax partner at a prestigious accounting firm and somehow using those skills to improve the community

Facing the Unseen Challenges of Survivorship with Positivity

My daughter, Cecilia, was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia (ALL) at the tender age of three, and just like that, my world (and hers) was turned upside down. In an instant, I became not only her attentive Mama but a ferocious Caregiver—two very different jobs.

What Was Not Unseen

When I saw this prompt I thought, “No problem. This will be easy!” Over time I found myself jotting things down. Like how I had absolutely no energy or motivation, how excruciating my pain can really be after a long day, or how the mere thought of breast cancer returning is like being trapped in a never-ending game of Russian roulette. I found myself writing about all the guilt I felt as a survivor. How sad my heart was to have had to put my daughter, husband, and immediate family through such a heartbreaking experience over the past seven years.

Aging Gracefully Out of AYA

At 33 I was hooked booked and totally cooked—not in a good way. I was diagnosed with bladder cancer a month before my 34th birthday. I was chasing a diagnosis for over a year and my PCP sucked. In short, I have really hateful feelings toward her. 

She told me that it’s all in my head; it’s all because I’m a woman! And it’s my uterus! it’s the fibroids! It’s probably the two C-sections you had, and last resort: “it’s your weight” that is causing all this abdominal pain. 

Life After Ringing the Bell

As I sit at my dining room table thinking to myself “the unseen challenges of survivorship. . .”, I am taken back to the time when I blogged about my cancer journey with a nice smelling candle lit, Dave Matthews playing in the background, and drinking hot tea. Writing my blog was my form of therapy. I was able to express myself in a manner that I had never experienced before.

A Toast to My Twenties

a toast to my twenties

at twenty years young, my friends piled into my car until every seat and lap were occupied and we drove until the odometer hit 100,000 miles in virginville, pennsylvania.

twenty-one was spent bar hoping with my uncle until the night ended with my head in my grandparent’s kitchen sink.

twenty-two was the year i graduated, moved, started over, and fell in love.

The AYA of it All

For some reason, possibly media desensitization, I always thought I would get cancer, I just always thought I would be old. I envisioned being in my late sixties or seventies and we would be so technologically evolved as a society that it would be a single doctor appointment or single surgery that would take care of it.

The First ‘A’: On Loneliness as a 16-Year-Old Survivor

It was 7:31 PM on a Wednesday and as I stared into the wall that night, the last thing I wanted to feel was sorry for myself. Against every word the doctor spoke to me that dripped with his implicit condolences, my mom crying on the window sill beside my bed. With a quick post to Instagram I was showered with attention, likes, and words of encouragement—everything I needed to get me through… or so I thought.

The “Too Young’’ Club

The adolescent and young adult cancer community is one I never dreamed of being a part of. We see it in the movies, on television, or on social media, always depicted as young children or individuals ages 50+. We are told constantly that we are “too young” to have cancer. Here’s the thing, cancer does not discriminate between too young or too old, too male or too female, or too rich or too poor.