There are certain times of year when my cancer story makes me feel incredibly isolated. There’s the time surrounding April 14, the day I was diagnosed, July 29, the day I was deemed “in remission” and, the one I’ve experienced most recently, the month of October.
In the United States, hair and beauty are multibillion-dollar industries, with the average woman spending about $50,000 on her hair over a lifetime. Clearly, good hair days are important and for most women, play a strong role in personal identity, self-confidence and the image presented to the world. So when patients begin treatment for cancer, the concern over hair loss sits front and center on the list of side effects that are likely to become an important part of their experience.
Perched on a steel pontoon in the Niagara River, a snowy owl gazes directly at the viewer, curious but cautious, during a brief stopover on a winter flight. Seen through the lens of Buffalo photographer Laird Robertson, the serene and magical moment is captured in a photo now on display in the Scott Bieler Clinical Sciences Center at Roswell Park.
For every amazing, caring friend, there’s another who has drifted away. The one who wholeheartedly promised, “if you need anything, I’m here,” and wasn’t. There are just some friends, for whatever reason, who won’t be there for you, even if you really want them or need them in your corner.
There are so many ways in which people choose to give to Roswell Park Cancer Institute, from donating to a participant of The Ride for Roswell to creating an annual event of their own. As varied as the ways of giving may be, the stories that fuel that desire to help are even more diverse.
FOMO, the abbreviated slang meaning “fear of missing out,” is a huge mental and emotional side effect of being a young adult cancer survivor and represents just a sliver of the unique challenges we have to face during and well after the fight of our lives.
Becoming a “teal sister” took me completely by surprise. Unfortunately, ovarian cancer is a sneaky thing. So, as a survivor, what would I tell my friends and potential “teal sisters” about my experience?
My early twenties were everything I imagined they would be. They were fun, filled with life and discovery, naive in the best of ways, connected by travels, and laced with endless dreams. This was until I hit a road block at age 25. Cancer stood in my tracks. What was I to do?
I had the day off from work and was busy putting together a special anniversary dinner for my husband. In the midst of chopping vegetables, I heard my cell phone ring but couldn’t reach it in time. I’d missed a call from my dermatologist.