Stories
Rebuilding a sense of self beyond the job titleA job title can look impressively solid on a résumé and feel strangely flimsy in real life. “Manager”, “nurse”, “teacher”, “consultant” or “operations lead”…
the words my onco-psychologist said that finally stuckI had been seeing my onco-psychologist for almost eight months before anything she said really landed. We'd meet in a small consulting room off the oncology…
The Day I Learned My Tumour Was ER-PositiveThe phone call came with a phrase I had heard before but never expected to apply to me: estrogen receptor-positive, or ER-positive. Until that moment, breast…
A Realistic Plan for Hosting a Dinner Party on EmptyMost dinner party guides assume you've got a full tank. They don't know about the bone-deep exhaustion after treatment, or the way fatigue creeps up while…
Dropping the Warrior Label and Finding My Own Words After CancerI used to nod politely whenever someone called me a warrior. The trapeze artist image, the "you've got this" fist bump, the pink merchandise plastered on tote…
The strangest nausea remedy: a pickle and a podcastNausea has a talent for taking over a room. It does not need drama, a warning, or even a full stomach. It can arrive while you are brushing your teeth, waiting…
What my physical therapist taught me about my shoulders after cancerI went in expecting foam rollers, stretchy bands, and a list of generic stretches. What my physiotherapist handed me instead was a mirror, a tissue box, and a…
How to Make Peace With the Pink Ribbon Industrial ComplexPink ribbons are difficult to escape after a breast cancer diagnosis. They appear on supermarket shelves, charity runs, corporate social media feeds, football…
When 3 A.M. Comes Knocking and the Fear Creeps BackThe body has its own time zone for grief and worry. Around the witching hour, when the street lights have taken over and the ceiling fan ticks overhead, the…
Why I Finally Told My Boss About My DiagnosisFor a while, my breast cancer diagnosis felt like information that belonged in a locked drawer. My family knew. My medical team knew. A few trusted friends…