Tag: cancer

creativity

The 4.5-Mile Walk: What Cancer Taught Me About Resilience and Love

Christa Avampato
Me at Macy’s in NYC 5 years ago, right after my second surgery

Five years ago, I was marching from the subway to NYU hospital for yet another surgery—two weeks after a bilateral mastectomy—with the high-stakes knowledge that if cancer cells were hiding in my body, my surgeon was going in to find them. This photo memory, which Google popped up yesterday, was taken right after I left the hospital and showcases the hope I felt that day.

I had this second surgery because the lymph nodes that biopsied negative for cancer came back positive in the pathology. Out of an abundance of caution, my surgeon said she wanted to remove all the lymph nodes under my left arm to see if any of those axillary nodes were positive. (She removed all the lymph nodes under my right arm during my mastectomy, and they were all negative, thankfully.) If any nodes under my left arm were positive, that would mean the cancer could have spread. This also meant that I would be at risk of lymphedema (swelling) not only in my right arm but now in my left arm as well. 

My surgeon was devastated that this happened to me. She said, “I hate that every time you come into my office it’s a horror show. I keep pulling the rug out from under you. But I promise you this – if there’s cancer in you, I’m going in there to get it.”

While I was disappointed to have another surgery so soon and with such high stakes in the outcome, I wasn’t nervous. My surgeon’s confidence in her abilities gave me confidence in mine. I marched from the subway to NYU hospital that morning, ready for battle. I felt powerful and strong, like a warrior. I remember thinking, “Cancer, if you’re hiding in me, we’re coming for you. You can’t hide from us.”

I woke up quickly in the recovery room after surgery, completely alert and sobbing. Crying is a common reaction from anesthesia. The nurse was concerned I was crying with worry. I explained I was crying with relief and gratitude. A wave of peace washed over me: whatever the final pathology report said, we had done everything we could.

My sister came to pick me up, and she said, “What do you want to do?” I said, “I want to go for a walk.” 

We walked to Macy’s to see the Christmas decorations – that’s where she took this picture of me. Then we walked home to get my dog at doggy daycare and back home to my Upper West Side apartment. It was a total of 4 1/2 miles. Those twinkling lights, the love from my sister, and that long walk made me believe that against all odds, I’d be okay. 

We waited for a week for the results. I should have been panicked waiting for the results of the surgery. Again, I wasn’t nervous. We’d done everything we could. The results would be the results. 

While we waited, my sister and I watched every episode of The Great British Baking Show. I took naps. We walked my dog. Friends called, brought food, and sent care packages. I knew my sister was scared. She was making plans to stay with me longer, preparing for the worst.

My surgeon’s nurse practitioner called me a week later. There was a delay in the results because the lab was backed up. She was so upset I was waiting this long, and I told her, “Don’t worry. I’m not worried.”

She called me back 10 minutes later. I could hear her crying. The results were in. All the lymph nodes were negative. No sign of cancer. 

I did have some evidence of cancer cells in my breast tissue trying to escape to the rest of my body (this is called “vascular invasion”). With the mastectomy, we’d stopped them in their tracks. Still, with vascular invasion, chemo was recommended for me by a panel of oncologists that my team had consulted, not only at NYU, but at top cancer institutes across the country. So, chemo would start in a month, just before Christmas. 

Though I didn’t know at the time that the coming chemo treatments would nearly kill me twice, in that moment, standing at the precipice of a new fight, I was simply and profoundly grateful for my surgeon, the dream that drove me to get tested in the first place, my sister and friends, my dog, and every breath I took.

Last week on another long walk, I went by Macy’s on my way to meet friends for dinner. How far I’ve come since that long walk five years ago. Their theme this year of “Give Love” is spread across the outside of the building in bright lights. I smiled at those words because 5 years ago cancer showed me that giving love is the secret of life. To love and be loved in return, in all the ways love shows up in this world and in our lives, is a gift beyond measure. It’s a gift I give and receive in greater amounts every day, everywhere I go. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

creativity

Living in gratitude on my 5-year cancer journey

Christa Avampato
Me outside the Perlmutter Cancer Center in NYC on October 29th after seeing my surgeon on the 5-year anniversary of my discharge from surgery

Last week I celebrated 5 years since the bilateral mastectomy that saved my life and removed any sign of cancer from my body. My friend, Wayne, describes journeys like this as a log flume. When we begin, we’re at the top of a terrifying drop. We’re scared, nervous, unsure, hopeful, confused, anxious. All the emotions of the human condition are raw and tumbled in our minds and hearts. We’re trying to keep our head up and our eyes ahead. we don’t want to take that plunge into the unknown. But we have to. We can’t turn around. The only way out is through.

And so, we take a deep breath, and we let ourselves fall. We face all the things we were afraid of, and then some. In every health challenge journey, circumstances arise that we never expected. In my case, I had to have another surgery 3 weeks later because lymph nodes that biopsied negative came back positive in the pathology. All the nodes from that second surgery were, thankfully, negative. Then I nearly died, twice, from a life-threatening allergy to Taxol, a common chemo drug, that shut down my lungs in the middle of COVID. My oncologist at the time thought I was being overly dramatic about my side effects when in fact I was suffocating. (I fired her from my care team, and she no longer sees patients.) My pulmonology team thought my lungs might be permanently scarred and I may need to have an oxygen tank for the rest of my life. Thanks to science and diligence, I fully recovered and now I’m healthier and stronger than ever.

I spent the evening of my 5-year surgery anniversary producing and hosting NYC’s Secrets & Lies – Ghost Stories. The irony isn’t lost on me—that I nearly became a ghost myself with so much life I still wanted to live and that storytelling and creativity have been two of my greatest teachers and healers.

In the wee hours of the morning after my surgery, I woke up in recovery. High as a kite on a massive amount of drugs, my nurse ran around the hospital to find me a turkey sandwich and to this day it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I happily gobbled it down, watched a Harry Potter film on my tablet, and cried enormous tears of gratitude. There was less of my body in the world, but I was still alive, still breathing, and cancer-free. My greatest wish that morning was to see the sunrise so my nurse got me out of bed and wheeled me to one of the lounge spaces in the recovery wing so I could see the sun come up over the East River and the FDR Drive. I will never forget that view.

My surgery team members came to see me before I was discharged. My plastic surgeon who had placed the first installment of my reconstruction – the tissue expanders that would go on to cause 14 months of constant pain – told me that I woke up from anesthesia very quickly, before I’d even left the operating room. I began gushing how grateful and thankful I was to the whole surgery team. She said the entire team was laughing and crying right along with me. I have zero memory of this, and I wish I’d been fully conscious to remember it. Leave it to me to bring the funny in the darkest of times!

Then my breast surgeon came to check me before discharge. Through our masks, I thanked her for saving me and she said, “Sweetie, I’m just part of the team. And every person in this hospital shows up every day with the only goal being to help you heal. And you will heal. And how you feel now – the pain and the fear – it won’t always feel this way. We’re going to get through this together.” My dear friend, Marita, picked me up from the hospital and drove me home to where my sister and my dog were waiting for me. In the following months, so many beautiful friends sent me care packages, messages, cards, and food, and came to visit me from a distance – outside and masked. The trying times we made it through! I’m so thankful for everyone who cheered me on and helped me in a million different ways. I wouldn’t be here without you.

It’s fitting that exactly 5 years at that exact time she came to see me in recovery that I had my 5-year check-up with my breast surgeon. She gave me a clean bill of health, and we talked about the next 5 years of meds. She eased my mind and soothed my heart, as she always does, with science and compassion. We have a plan to keep me cancer-free, and I feel ready to start this next chapter.

I left her office with tears in my eyes and my head, heart, and spirit filled with gratitude for every second of these past 5 years. I’m even grateful for the worst days on this journey because I got to live them. Every morning, my first thought is, “Whew, I got another one!” Long may that tradition continue.

Below are photos of me on the day of my surgery and the morning after when I woke up and saw the sunrise

creativity

Using science to build strong bones as a cancer survivor

Christa Avampato
Me at Ravinia when I visited friends in Chicago this weekend

Some personal health news and a story about the power of science. 2 years ago, I went for a bone density test. Unsurprisingly it showed that my current “f*ck cancer” meds had decreased my bone density numbers into the osteopenia range with 1 number from my low back on the border for osteoporosis.

At that point, my oncology team and I decided to play defense. I added the equivalent of Harry Potter’s Skele-gro to my arsenal of daily weight-bearing exercises, a very healthy diet, and no alcohol that I was already doing. The hope was the new med would stabilize my numbers and keep osteoporosis at bay.

I just had my 2 year bone density test. Some of my numbers have improved by a lot. A couple stayed the same. The number for my low back tipped by -.1, taking me into osteoporosis.

I bursted into tears. I spend an incredible amount of time and effort looking after my health. Ani DiFranco wasn’t joking when she sang, “self-preservation is a full-time occupation.” How was this fair? What else was I supposed to do to stop this?

I pulled myself together and messaged my oncologist to ask about next steps.

I took myself for a walk and gave myself a pep talk. The med is working. Healing isn’t linear. I know this. Like an arrow, sometimes we have to be pulled back a bit to fly forward.

By the time I got home, my oncologist had responded. I expected to see a recommendation for more meds. “This is status quo. You’re on protective meds and will be done with the meds causing this side effect in a year. This will get better.”

The new medications I’ll switch to in a year, which will mark 5 years since the end of my active cancer treatment, don’t diminish bone density. They will likely protect my bone health and possibly improve my numbers. And my oncologist will keep me on the Skele-gro until I’m out of osteoporosis land.

My bone health isn’t where I want it to be. Not yet. I’ll get there, one day at a time, thanks to science.

creativity

Greenland sharks may help us cure cancer

Christa Avampato
Close-up image of a Greenland shark taken at the floe edge of the Admiralty Inlet, Nunavut. Photo credit — Hemming1952 | Wikimedia Commons | Used under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International

A cure for cancer may be swimming 2,200 meters (~7,200 feet) below the surface of the Arctic and North Atlantic oceans. Greenland sharks (Somniosus microcephalus) are deep-dwelling animals who live to be ~400 years old in the wild without a shred of medical care. The secret to their longevity is likely in their genes that fend off cancer.

An international team of 28 scientists recently published a paper mapping the Greenland shark’s genome. And the results are astonishing. The shark’s genome has two remarkable features: many duplicate genes give the shark an enhanced ability to repair damaged DNA, and their genome has an altered p53 protein that makes the protein more robust. What do those two things have to do with cancer? As it turns out, everything!

Damaged DNA and cancer Damaged DNA that isn’t repaired causes mutations in genes that regulate how a cell grows and divides. This damage causes cell growth to skyrocket uncontrollably leading to tumors, a.k.a. cancer. There are many ways DNA can be damaged — UV rays from the sun when we don’t wear sufficient sunscreen, tobacco smoke, exposure to toxic chemicals, aging, and the normal processes of living.

Most of the time and for most of our lives, our bodies recognize the damaged DNA and either repair the cell or purge that cell through our natural waste processes, kicking the damaged cell out of our bodies so it never causes problems. However, these damaged cells can be sneaky and hide, or the amount of damage can be very extensive, making it difficult for our bodies to repair or remove all of it.

The Greenland shark’s enhanced ability to repair damaged DNA is an incredible adaptation that helps prevent cancer. Knowing that DNA damage is such an asset for the shark’s longevity further spurs our cancer research to seek out new treatments and therapies to enhance human abilities to repair DNA damage.

p53 protein and cancer The p53 protein is a powerhouse in the bodies of almost every animal. p53 is a tumor suppressor, protecting cell DNA from damage, initiating repairs when it detects damaged DNA, and kicking damaged cell out of the body when necessary. Greenland sharks have a more robust p53 protein than other animals, allowing them to be more highly attuned to protect against and repair DNA damage.

Biomimicry, nature preservation, and biodiversity conservation is vital for human health Among its many attributes, nature is a research lab, pharmacy, library, and archive. The species with whom we share this planet hold the answers to every question we have. It takes time, effort, and funding to study nature and find these answers.

By employing biomimicry (the emulation of nature’s design genius, such as the adaptations of the Greenland sharks that give them such great longevity), protecting nature, and safeguarding biodiversity, we are providing ourselves with a source of unlimited creativity, knowledge, and wisdom. Our lives, and the lives of all beings, are intricately intertwined. Nature will help us thrive if we care enough to help nature survive.

creativity

The latest cancer treatment is in your medicine cabinet right now

Christa Avampato
Photo by Hal Gatewood on Unsplash

Open up your medicine cabinet and have a look around. You may have the latest cancer treatment front and center—aspirin. Yep. Good ole regular aspirin that costs ~$0.05 per tablet.

The discovery of aspirin’s nature roots dates back to ancient civilizations. Sumerians, Egyptians, and Greeks used willow bark as a pain reliever. The 18th- and 19th-century ushered in a host of developments that led to modern day aspirin. In 1763, English clergyman Edward Stone observed willow bark reduced fevers. In 1828, German chemist Joseph Buchner isolated salicin as the active chemical in willow bark. In 1853, French chemist Charles Gerhardt synthesized salicylic acid, a derivative of salicin. In 1897, German chemist Felix Hoffmann, working for the Bayer company, synthesized acetylsalicylic acid (ASA), a more stable and less irritating form of salicylic acid. He named the new compound “aspirin,” a combination of the words “acetyl” and “spiraea,” a plant related to willow. Bayer patented aspirin on March 6, 1899, and began marketing it as a pain reliever and fever reducer. 

Fast forward 126 years, almost exactly to the day. Scientists have now uncovered how aspirin works to stop some cancers such as breast, bowel, and prostate from spreading (known as metastasis.) Metastasis, the spread of cancer cells from primary tumors to distant organs, is the cause of 90% of cancer deaths globally.

When cancer first spreads, there’s a window of opportunity for treatment when cancer cells are particularly vulnerable. By stimulating the immune system during this window of time, aspirin could prevent spread and recurrence in patients with early cancer. The study, published on March 5, 2025 in the journal, Nature, will support ongoing clinical trials in humans, to work out who is most likely to benefit based on the many different aspects of tumors (known as biomarkers.) It’s also important to note that aspirin is known to increase bleeding risk and can cause extreme stomach upset and toxicity so this treatment must only be done under the recommendation and supervision of a medical team.

Professor Rahul Roychoudhuri in the Department of Pathology at the University of Cambridge, who led the work, said, “Despite advances in cancer treatment, many patients with early stage cancers receive treatments, such as surgical removal of the tumor, which have the potential to be curative, but later relapse due to the eventual growth of micro metastases–cancer cells that have seeded other parts of the body but remain in a latent state.

“Most immunotherapies are developed to treat patients with established metastatic cancer, but when cancer first spreads there’s a unique therapeutic window of opportunity when cancer cells are particularly vulnerable to immune attack. We hope that therapies that target this window of vulnerability will have tremendous scope in preventing recurrence in patients with early cancer at risk of recurrence.”

Aspirin is less expensive than antibody-based therapies, so more accessible globally. It also has fewer side effects than many cancer treatments and could therefore be better tolerated by patients to protect and preserve quality of life without compromising other aspects of a person’s health.

I have a long day of medical appointments with my oncology team at NYU’s Perlmutter Cancer Center next week on March 25th. (These are my regular check-ups and include the administration of some of my medications that I have to have done by my medical team.) I’ll absolutely discuss with them the potential of aspirin to help keep me cancer-free, and keep you updated on their response. I love to participate in research studies – not only does it help me, but it also helps me pay forward all of the benefits I’ve received from others who participated in research that make my treatments possible. Curing cancer takes a village, and maybe someday, a daily dose of aspirin.

creativity

New research to relieve radiation fibrosis for cancer patients

Christa Avampato
Photo by Oksana Taran on Unsplash

Some nerdy science news! Ever since my early breast cancer diagnosis in 2020, I’ve participated in a number of scientific studies and new medical treatments. Last week I began a new one after one of my doctors suggested it as a way to help support my body’s ongoing healing.

I had my bilateral mastectomy in October 2020. When the pathology was done, the research team found that lymph nodes in my left breast were positive for cancer cells even though they had biopsied negative. Additionally, I had something called “vascular invasion” on my left side. This means a few pesky breast cancer cells were trying to make their way out of my breast tissue by traveling through my blood vessels and lymphatic system. I was fortunate that my surgery removed them and brought their journey to an end before they could do any more damage. We also did a second surgery under my left arm 2 weeks after my mastectomy to test those lymph nodes. Thankfully, all of the lymph nodes under my left arm were cancer-free (just like the ones under my right arm!) However, there was a very slight possibility that one or two of those cancer cells on the left side got away without us knowing. On the off chance that this happened, my radiation oncology team suggested radiation just on the left side to ensure we stopped them. (There was no vascular invasion on my right side, so radiation on the right side wasn’t needed.) Also, there was one lymph node very close to my lung and heart on the left side that was a tiny bit enlarged. Because of its location near my heart and lung, it was too risky to biopsy or remove it. So, radiation would be used to kill any cancer cells that might be trying to hang out in that lymph node.

In total, I had 6 weeks of radiation, 5 days each week, for a total of 30 radiation sessions. The last 5 sessions were a “boost” week meaning the radiation was stepped up to a higher level and aimed right at that lymph node near my heart and lung. Though I’m grateful for these lifesaving treatments, the side effects were a bit rough. I got a 3rd degree burn the size of a baseball in the center of my chest and it caused the muscles, ligaments, and tendons on the left side to tighten up considerably. Though I’ve regained almost all of my mobility in my upper body through a lot of hard work, those muscles, ligaments, and tendons on my left side are still very tight and my left shoulder rolls in very slightly as a result. This condition is called radiation fibrosis.

All of my medical cancer care is through NYU Langone Health in New York City. They recently hired Dr. Yingrong Zhu, a physiatrist who specializes in breast cancer survivorship. A physiatrist, also known as a physical medicine and rehabilitation (PM&R) physician, is a medical doctor specializing in diagnosing and treating conditions affecting the musculoskeletal system, nervous system, and other bodily functions, with the goal of restoring function and improving quality of life.

I went to see Dr. Zhu this week and had a fantastic experience. She explained that the effects of radiation can persist for 20 years – I had no idea! – so this issues I’m having with tightness deserve attention. She also explained that because I work out and stretch every day (including stretches given to me by my physical therapy team right after my active treatment), more physical therapy wasn’t likely to help me. However, she told me about some small scientific studies that show a 6-month course of vitamin E 1000 i.u. supplements combined with a medication called pentoxifylline ER can help release tension in muscles affected by radiation fibrosis and lead to increased mobility.

Together, Dr. Zhu and I decided it was worth me trying this new medication combo. The side effects are minimal, and she’s had a few other patients who have benefitted from it. It’s too soon to tell if it will help me, but I’m always willing to try anything that helps support my health and well-being. I also see this as an opportunity to not only help myself, but also to help others by sharing my experience with this new treatment. I’m excited about the possibility of regaining more of my mobility and improving my quality of life. Here’s hoping that someday I’ll be able to do my beloved yoga backbends again!

creativity

How I support cancer patients and caregivers at Hope Lodge in NYC

Christa Avampato
Hope Lodge NYC. Photo by Christa Avampato.

On Monday night, I held my first conversation group at the American Cancer Society’s Hope Lodge in New York City. Cancer patients and their caregivers stay there for free while the patients receive treatment in New York. My twice-a-month conversation groups are a safe space where any of the patients and caregivers can come to talk about anything that’s on their minds. I bring homemade baked goods, coloring supplies, and a willingness to listen. On Monday, a lovely group of volunteers from the skincare company La Roche-Posay also provided dinner for everyone so our 1-hour group turned into a 3-hour group.

As a cancer survivor, I’ve been searching for a way to give back and help other people on their healing journey. I love talking with people, hearing their stories, and helping them work through challenges (if help is what they need). I was very lucky to survive cancer and regain my health. This is my way of supporting others as they rise.

creativity

What I’ve learned in the 4 years since my bilateral mastectomy after breast cancer

Christa Avampato
Me today — 4 years post-surgery — outside of Perlmutter Cancer Center in New York City

Sunday marked 4 years since the bilateral mastectomy that removed cancer from my body and saved my life. I dropped off my absentee ballot for the election on October 26th, 2020 during early voting and in the depths of the pandemic before vaccines. The next day I went to NYU Langone Medical Center. The surgery was long and difficult. The recovery was painful. The many months of treatment and two additional surgeries, life-threatening setbacks, and healing were even worse. I didn’t know about any of that when I arrived at the hospital that day. All I knew then was I wanted to live, and I might not. My only goal was to wake up from that surgery and see the sunrise. And I did. Step 1, done.

After I woke up from anesthesia, I watched Harry Potter on my iPad, trying to invoke some kind of magic of my own. My angel nurse, Esther, ran all over the hospital to find me a sandwich since meal service had ended. To this day, that ordinary turkey sandwich was the best damn thing I’ve ever eaten. Then she showed me how to care for the 4 drains coming out of my body, a necessary evil after an extensive surgery.

When Dr. Schnabel, my surgeon, came to visit me, I thanked her for saving my life. Neither of us could see each other’s smiles because we were both double-masked. I remember her eyes looking deep into mine. “I’m just part of the team. Everyone in this hospital has one goal — to get you up and over the mountain. It won’t always feel like this. Someday you’re going to be very grateful you chose to take the hard road today.”

My friend, Marita, picked me up at the hospital and gave me the gentlest of hugs. I had a giant bag of meds. “How do you feel?” she asked me once I was settled into her car. I said, “I don’t know.”

Marita drove me home and handed me off to my sister, who dropped her whole life in Florida to take care of me (and my dog). My next goal was to be able to walk around my neighborhood by Halloween with my dog dressed as a pumpkin and my sister to see all the decorations and find some joy in my favorite season. Step 2, done.

My next goals — stay alive, restore my health, and thrive. Steps 3, 4, and 5, done, done, and a daily process.

I went for my annual check-up with my surgeon this morning. All clear! It happened to fall on the anniversary of that conversation we had about the choice to take the hard road. As I walked to the subway to head home in the sunshine, I thought about how right she was — she’s always right. I don’t feel the way I felt 4 years ago. Today, I’m hopeful and thankful for all of it, even cancer. We got up and over that mountain. There are so many people who made this trek possible. I was never alone in it. There were angels, guides, and teachers everywhere. There still are. The journey continues, and I’m very grateful for that.

Below: images from four years ago pre- and post-surgery.

creativity

What a new health scare taught me about living

Christa Avampato
Photo of me in Prospect Park, Brooklyn.

This week, I had a short-lived health scare. A recent test came back with abnormal results. I was asymptomatic, as I was when diagnosed with cancer 4 years ago, so this threw me for a loop. It turned out to be a new side effect from my long-term meds that prevent cancer recurrence.

My doctor prescribed medication for a month to clear the inflammation and dietary changes to manage it since I have to stay on the meds causing this. It’s annoying. It’s also a relief that it was caught early and is reversible. I learned a lot with this recent scare. I’m leaning into these insights:

Slow down
I’m terrible at sitting still. Between the election in less than 2 weeks, climate change, and a myriad of other challenges in the world, there is a push to go go go. Do more, and faster. While this is true, it is also true that we have to rest. Take a walk. Eat well. Care for ourselves and others. Health is the greatest wealth. We are no good to anyone if we aren’t also good to ourselves. It’s not either or. It’s and.

Mortality
No matter how well we take care of ourselves, none of us will live forever. Time is our most precious resource, and we would do well to spend it on who, what, and where matters most to us.

Write
Around this time of year, I set my near-term priorities and creative focus. While writing is always a big part of my life, in 2025, it’ll be the central work I’ll do because storytelling is the work I love most & the greatest need I see in the world. I have quite a few writing projects in various states. It’s time to get them all polished up and out into the world. More on this soon.

Betting on me
Betting on myself is the best bet. I’ve never regretted it, even when things went horribly wrong. This is how I’ve learned and grown the most in my career and life. This is another reason I’m focusing on my writing in 2025.

Community
Caring for ourselves and betting ourselves is not work we do alone. It takes a village. My community and my medical team is central to my health, well-being, and creative work. I’m never alone in it. Neither are you.

Thank you for being on this journey of discovery with me. Let’s enjoy the ride. We’re all just walking each other home.

creativity

Getting through breast cancer awareness month as a survivor

Christa Avampato
Photo by Angiola Harry on Unsplash

Today is the 4-year anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis. Everything is pink as far as the eye can see. It’s breast cancer awareness month, and the awareness is everywhere. If it exists in solid form, it can be made pink. This month helps raise awareness around the importance of screening, early detection, research, causes, and symptom identification. 

As a breast cancer survivor, all this awareness can be triggering. It can bring back difficult memories, re-ignite fears, and cause those dreaded what-if questions that are often just a breath away. As a survivor myself, I use every day to advocate for cancer survivors and those who know a survivor. Here is a list of how survivors can care for themselves during this sensitive month, and how you can provide support for the survivors in your life.

For survivors:
1.) It’s okay to acknowledge fears. Acknowledging them is the first step toward moving through them. It’s also important to remind yourself that these are future fears. they have not happened. They are not your present. 

2.) Be kind to yourself. Spend time with others. Go for a walk. Eat nutritious food. Do something you love. Find joy. In moments of difficulty, don’t judge yourself. Give yourself grace. 

3.) When those what-ifs creep in, remind yourself how far you’ve come and all you’ve overcome. Getting through cancer and treatment is a long, often-lonely journey. When you look back at your road, be proud of all you’ve faced and how you’ve grown.

4.) Remind yourself of the gifts. Cancer is terrible. There’s no way around that. It also gives incredible gifts. I grew closer to people during and after cancer. I have even more gratitude. My heart holds even more love. I don’t have bad days anymore. Every day is a good day because I get to have it. It wasn’t so long ago that I almost didn’t get a tomorrow. At several points in my journey, I was on the brink of dying. That I’m here at all is a miracle my doctors still don’t fully understand. As my surgeon says, “We don’t question the good.” Just live. Really live. 

5.) Share your story. There are people who are where you were. Be a symbol of who they can be on the other side of cancer. This helps you and them. 

For those who know a survivor:
1.) Check in on them. Ask them how they’re doing. Be a safe person for them to open up to. Being there for them is an incredible gift. 

2.) Donate to breast cancer organizations in the name of the survivor. No amount is too small and it means a lot to survivors that other people are being helped in their name. Research saved my life and I’m part of multiple research studies that are helping others. It’s empowering. 

3.) Do something special for them. Have a coffee date or a meal with them, plan a fun day out, give them a call, or send a card or text to tell them you’re thinking of them. All these small gestures really make a difference. Time is our most precious resource so if you want someone to know they matter to you, give them some of your time.