breast-cancer-diagnosis

There have been three paramount findings that have changed the narrative around breast cancer in 2015. Here's what you need to know.
Instead of going into something blindfolded, you are able to physically and mentally prepare yourself, be strong, and hope for the best outcome. Knowledge is power.
Just when I thought I might be running out of things to write about, God blessed me with a whole new topic that will keep me busy writing for weeks, perhaps years.
She didn't choose this battle. But I promise it messed with the wrong woman. Give 'em hell George. We're praying and pulling for you.
However, this doesn't mean that people should question the results of every medical test result that they have. In fact, Mishori
When something 'bad' happens to us, we often second-guess the reasons. Eight years ago, when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, the first thing I did was start beating myself up. I must have 'caused' this disease myself. In my mind, I went over a litany of things I could have done wrong, a list that escalated as I learned more and more about the disease.
Being diagnosed with any disease or illness is life altering. It is normal to experience a wide range of emotions and thought processes as the news settles in. For the incredible women highlighted in this post, being diagnosed with breast cancer changed their lives forever, and in ways they could not imagine.
While my decades of physical activity did not prevent my breast cancer, it did impart the enormous benefit of stamina throughout my treatment.
I am concerned that, when it comes to sharing what we know with our daughters, we face a challenge we did not anticipate.
Too many women who are faithful with their yearly mammographic screening have been denied equal access to an early diagnosis, which convey less treatment options and worse survival outcomes.
It will take a diverse population's full participation in well-designed studies to provide women with a better answer to the question, "What should I do?" Until then, we should err on the side of early detection and early treatment.
Olivia Newton-John, the singer most well-known for her role as Sandy in Grease, also opened up about her experience early
Too often, I encounter a newly-diagnosed, frightened woman who doesn't know that the choice for treatment is hers to make. Her surgeon, medical oncologist, and the radiation oncologist are all there to help guide her, but ultimately the decision should be -- must be -- hers.
I was told in the support group that if cancer didn't kill you, it changed you forever. I didn't believe it. It was too mythic, too sentimental, a TV illness of the week. You've seen the movie. To my surprise I discover that the myth reflects truth.
Work was the only space in which I felt normal, the only place where I could retreat and not think about my diagnosis.
My father was murdered in a bootlegging turf war with the mafia. Although it wasn't cancer that killed him, my family felt the same secrecy, disgrace, and guilt. Like cancer, it was the death that had no name. Like cancer, my mother never acknowledged my father's death. Not once. Not in her entire life. He was our cancer.
No one knows exactly if your cancer will kill you sooner, or later, or not at all. There is the often broken five-year test of time, there are statistics and prognoses and studies, there are oncologists, radiologists, surgeons, and social workers; there are articles in the New York Times and the New England Journal of Medicine that often contradict each other.
We have two choices about how we handle painful life experiences: from a place of fear or optimism. When I was sick I chose (and it was a very active, decisive choice) optimism in the form of Silver Linings.
Denial was too late for me. Cancer doesn't lie. Cancer, unlike murder, doesn't kill in seconds. It's always there, on standby. And as I sat waiting for the doctor, my bare breasts covered in a paper jacket, I envied my mother's lifelong delusion.
Every time someone we love hears the words, "You have cancer," we know their world and ours will never be the same. Gayle Brostowski, VFCC alum from the class of 1985, had no idea that 26 years later she would be diagnosed with third stage breast cancer.