Ask Perrie: Dating After Everything

Dear Perrie,

I’m wondering about dating after cancer treatment. I just worry that everyone will pity me and not take me seriously as a potential partner. Also, how to navigate the potential of needing care later on? How do you deal with that?

Dear Dating After Everything,

This is a tender and vulnerable question, and it makes so much sense that dating after cancer would feel complicated. Cancer can change how you see yourself, and it can make you wonder how others will see you, too. Wondering whether your potential partner will pity you or take you seriously makes sense to me; it’s a common concern I’ve heard from other YAs navigating dating. This can show up in other relationships too, not just romantic ones! I want to gently redirect you to an important follow-up question: What would it mean about the person and/or the relationship if that did happen? 

I ask this question because often when we are someone who is navigating the world of oncology, disability, chronic pain, infertility, and more, we begin to look at ourselves as the common denominator and therefore the problem. Having needs that may differ from someone your age, or who you were before cancer, does not make you the problem. Instead, I want to offer that the right person for you will stay curious about your experiences and won’t feel burdened by your medical history.  Your cancer experience is part of you, but it is not all of you. The right person will be able to see that. Sure, “normies” may need a little guidance at first (they haven’t had this experience before, after all), but I want to encourage you to notice if someone isn’t taking you seriously or giving you pity even after a conversation, then that is data about that person or the relationship.

Dating asks you to be seen, and that can feel vulnerable in a different way after going through something as significant as cancer. I also want to remind you that you get to decide how and when you share your story. Some people feel more comfortable being open early on, and others wait until there is more trust. There isn’t a right or wrong way to disclose your medical history. What matters is that it feels aligned with your comfort and your sense of safety! You get to decide if and when the person you are dating is safe enough (emotionally) to share this tender part of yourself with. 

The question about future care is a big one. Cancer can make the possibility of needing care feel more immediate and more real. At the same time, needing care at some point is part of being human and a normal part of being in a long-term relationship. There is a saying in disability spaces that disability is the only identity any of us can enter at any time. What you are naming is something many people carry, even if they are not always saying it out loud

A small reframe for you: You do not have to solve that question at the beginning of dating or a relationship. In fact, you may not want to solve it that early. 

Early on, it is enough to focus on whether this person is kind, whether they listen, whether they show up consistently, and how you feel in their presence. As a relationship grows, conversations about support, capacity, and care tend to happen more naturally. When those conversations come up, you can approach them with openness. You might share that your cancer experience has shaped how you think about support and that being able to talk about those things matters to you.

It may also help assuage any anxiety around long-term care by starting to have these conversations with yourself. For example, if and when you do need long-term care, what would be your priorities? Your major concerns? Are there any steps you could take now to have a plan in place? Things like a power of attorney, a will, or making some financial decisions could help you to feel empowered in navigating these concerns long before a long-term partner enters the picture. 

There is also something really important I am hearing underneath all of this. You are wondering if you will be seen as a full partner, someone who is desired, chosen, and taken seriously. 

Please hear me, you are worthy of all of that. Your worth in a relationship is not defined by your medical history. The right people will recognize that and see you for the full expansive human you are. If you find that you struggle with this idea, it may be time to join YA group spaces or seek out a qualified mental health therapist. Memorial Sloan Kettering has a podcast with several episodes on dating inside cancer, or you might even check out Elephants and Tea and see what other YA’s are writing about on this topic. You might also find some of these options supportive in the journey around cancer, dating, and self-love: 

Rooting for a love (and self-love) that accepts you fully,
Perrie 

Ask Perrie is Cactus Cancer Society’s advice column for the questions that young adult cancer doesn’t come with instructions for. Community members submit anonymous questions, and Perrie offers thoughtful guidance, perspective, and practical ideas for navigating life during and after cancer.

Submit your own question

Ask Perrie: More Than Just Tired

Dear Perrie,

I am a few years out of active treatment, and I still have significant post-treatment fatigue. Not looking for strategies to combat fatigue, but more on how to explain it to other people that my “tired” (bone-deep exhaustion) is different than other people’s “tired.” It’s hard, because I also look physically well now and I’m able to “function” well. Advice needed, Perrie!!

Dear More Than Just Tired,

First, I want to validate that your experience makes sense, and you are far from alone in this. So many young adults I talk to share this exact tension: they look “functional” (especially as young adults). Some may even have a habit of pushing through chronic symptoms so they can still participate in regular life, but end up crashing later. This all happens while carrying bone-deep fatigue and the internal battle of managing capacity as an adult. That’s a lot. 

One tool that can really help put language to this is Spoon Theory. If you’re not familiar, it’s a way of describing energy as a limited number of “spoons” you start the day with. Every task (like getting dressed, working, socializing, even thinking through something emotional) costs a spoon. Using this framework with others can sometimes help them visualize what it’s like to balance capacity while living with chronic fatigue. 

So, instead of saying “I’m tired,” you might say: “I only have a certain number of spoons each day, and I have to choose carefully how I use them.” Or “If I spend my energy here, I might not have enough left for something later. I’ve found that language like this can sometimes help ‘normies’ understand that chronic fatigue isn’t about willpower or effort, it’s about capacity. In my personal life, I’ve even set up a system at home so my husband knows my spoons/capacity that day. I’ll write on the whiteboard or text him how many spoons I have, which helps us adjust our schedule accordingly. 

It may also help to pair Spoon Theory with language such as “dynamic disability” and “invisible illness”. Dynamic disability means your abilities are not fixed. Your capacity can shift day to day or even hour to hour, so what feels manageable one day may feel impossible the next. Invisible illness means what you’re experiencing may not be obvious to others. You might look “fine” while your body is working overtime just to function. Together, these terms can help explain why chronic fatigue is so hard for others to see or understand and help to reinforce your limits when discussing your fatigue with others. 

Lastly, it may also be supportive to get concrete about what support actually looks like. People often want to help, but don’t know how, having never lived through cancer or chronic fatigue. You might say something like, “It helps when plans are flexible,” “I may need to cancel at the last minute,” “Offering options instead of expectations makes things easier,” or “Low-energy time together still means a lot to me.” These types of statements set expectations and communicate directly the type of support that feels most helpful for YOU. You might need to practice these statements on your own at first, and that’s okay! I’ve been known to have a mirror conversation or two to help myself practice naming my needs.

All that said, there is a hard truth we can’t avoid when communicating our needs: Even the best explanation won’t make everyone understand.

You can do your best to explain your experience. You can offer tools to understand. You can be vulnerable and honest. But you cannot control whether someone truly gets it. What you can control is how you care for yourself in response. That’s where boundaries come in. That might sound like, “I need to head out early so I don’t overdo it.” “I can’t commit to that right now.” “I need a slower day today.” Try not to over-explain, and try not to apologize for having real limits! Boundary work is often easier said than done, because we then have to sit with someone’s uncomfortable reactions to our boundaries. I recommend checking out Nedra Glover, a licensed therapist and author who discusses boundary-setting extensively, as a tool for support. 

And as a side note, if you do share vulnerably (which is always optional) with someone and take the time to explain your fatigue, your limits, your reality, and they dismiss it, minimize it, or continue to expect more from you than you can give… that’s important information about the relationship. Don’t get me wrong, some people will meet you there. They’ll adjust expectations, move plans around, respect your limits, and truly care about your capacity. They’ll make a real effort to accommodate your needs and still include you. These types of relationships are worth their weight in gold. And still…. others won’t. Part of navigating life after cancer is learning to invest your energy in the relationships that can honor your reality, not fight against it.

There is also something really powerful in your question. I can tell that you are learning how to listen to and honor your body, name your limits, and advocate for yourself in ways most people never have to. This work is hard, but it’s absolutely vital in reconnecting with yourself after an experience like cancer. I’m really proud of you for doing the hard things! 

With you in it,
Perrie 🌵

Ask Perrie is Cactus Cancer Society’s advice column for the questions that young adult cancer doesn’t come with instructions for. Community members submit anonymous questions, and Perrie offers thoughtful guidance, perspective, and practical ideas for navigating life during and after cancer.

SUBMIT YOUR OWN QUESTION

Ask Perrie: Got Big Questions

Dear Perrie,

How do we cope with the major fear of recurrence for the rest of our hopefully long lives?

How do we choose a career where we do not want to waste our time and be fulfilled, but also gives us the stability and health benefits, especially after experiencing such a traumatic part of our lives?

Dear Got Big Questions,

I’m going to do my best here to be a supportive place to land with these concerns, because they are some heavy and really common concerns among YA cancer folks. First, I want to name something important. Fear of recurrence is a huge part of young adult cancer. So much so that research consistently identifies it as one of the top three long-term aftereffects experienced by AYA survivors. I share that not to make it feel inevitable, but to normalize the experience. You are not alone in this fear, and many struggle to navigate it. 

When you’ve lived through something as traumatic and life-altering as cancer, it makes sense that your brain and body remain alert to the possibility that it could happen again. Your mind is trying to protect you! The tricky part is that this protective system sometimes stays on high alert long after treatment ends (or longer than necessary). 

Navigating fear of recurrence will look different for everyone. For some people, it means working with a trusted therapist who understands cancer survivorship. For others, it means finding community spaces where they can talk openly with people who truly understand the experience. And for many others, it takes space and time (ugh, I know, I know….time?!?) for healing as your mind, body, and soul adjust to your reality. 

Here are a few approaches that I’ve found personally and professionally helpful in dealing with fear of recurrence: 

Let the feeling exist.
Trying to force fear away often makes it louder. Acknowledging that fear is present can sometimes soften its grip. For many people, fear of recurrence does not completely disappear; it softens with time and grows quieter with experience navigating it. I don’t say that to scare you, but to name a truth that many experience: Sometimes the work becomes less about getting rid of fear and more about learning how to let the fear exist without letting it run your life. You see, the more we try to avoid fear, the bigger it can become. You might experiment with gently allowing yourself to be scared while still doing the important things in your life. You might even try practicing being with the fear in small increments on purpose. Yes, I know that sounds a little strange, but stay with me. The more you practice letting the feeling exist, the easier it can be to navigate when it inevitably knocks on your door. 

Bring yourself back to what you actually know to be true.
Fear has a way of pulling our minds into imagined futures. When that happens, try to anchor yourself in the present moment. What do you know to be completely true right now? Right now, you are here in this moment. Right now, you are living your life inside of trauma or new symptoms. Right now, you are doing your absolute best to cope. Bringing your brain back to the current moment is not only an exercise in reeling your thoughts in, but an act of mindfulness. The practice of paying attention to the current moment, on purpose, without judgment. Mindfulness has been shown, across a multitude of studies and cultural practices, to be a cornerstone of resilience and psychological health. When you notice your brain in future-tripping land (as I lovingly call it), try to see if you bring it back to what’s right in front of you through art, music, or another novel experience. It should help take the temperature down! 

Additionally, if you are unsure what symptoms should prompt a call to your oncologist, ask them directly. Having that information can be incredibly grounding. Keep a list of those symptoms somewhere accessible (looking at you, iPhone notes app) so when your brain starts spiraling, you have something concrete. Sometimes that reminder helps us see that our mind is trying to protect us from a future that has not arrived.

Give the fear somewhere to go.
Talking about it with trusted people, journaling, creative expression, therapy, or support groups can help move fear out of your head and into a space where it can actually be processed. Giving your body an opportunity to release some of that energy can be really important for your nervous system and overall mood management. Things like movement, physical activity, grounding exercises, or emotional processing in safe spaces are all ways to help your nervous system move through fear instead of holding it alone. Give yourself and your body an opportunity to chew through the feelings by finding which activities work best for you. 

Your second question about choosing a career after cancer is another really big one. Choosing a career that balances your needs is already a complicated process in young adulthood. When cancer enters the picture, those decisions can start to feel even heavier. It makes sense that you might feel overwhelmed or even frozen when trying to choose something that is both meaningful and stable. Cancer often changes our relationship with time. Suddenly, the idea of wasting time can feel terrifying. There can be pressure to find work that feels deeply fulfilling while also making sure you have stability, health insurance, and enough flexibility to take care of your body.

The truth is that most people build meaningful lives in layers rather than through one perfect decision.

Give yourself some grace to make the next best choice you can in this moment, and maybe even some permission to change your mind later. As you continue to grow as a human, your needs and priorities may shift or evolve. That may mean a professional pivot somewhere down the road, and that is okay (and to be expected, growing and changing is so so human). 

Some tough love here: you do not have to solve the rest of your life today, even if your brain is trying to convince you that you should. 

If you still find yourself feeling stuck on the career piece, it may be helpful to work with a career coach, academic advisor, or another professional who can help guide you through what matters most to you right now. Sometimes, simply exploring your options with someone who understands the process can relieve some of the pressure to find a path that checks every box all at once.

The fact that you are asking these questions tells me you are paying close attention to the life you want to build. That kind of reflection can feel heavy sometimes, but it can also lead to a life that feels deeply intentional. What a wonderful paradox. 

Wishing you courage as you keep asking the big questions,
Perrie




Ask Perrie is Cactus Cancer Society’s advice column for the questions that young adult cancer doesn’t come with instructions for. Community members submit anonymous questions, and Perrie offers thoughtful guidance, perspective, and practical ideas for navigating life during and after cancer.

SUBMIT YOUR OWN QUESTION

Cancer Didn’t Come With Instructions. Ask Perrie.

Young adult cancer comes with pamphlets. Port scars. Schedules. Acronyms. Follow-up appointments. 

It does not come with instructions.

There’s no chapter on how to tell someone your diagnosis, how to handle the grief that comes, or what to do when your family and friends feel like they don’t understand. There isn’t an appendix on dating while bald, marriage while sick, or how to navigate cancer ghosting. You won’t find a flowchart for “Why am I angry even though I’m alive?” You won’t find an FAQ for how to handle caregiving without burning out. And trust me when I say there isn’t a secret footnote explaining why your body feels unfamiliar or why losing your hair feels so emotional. 

And yet, the questions keep coming.

At Cactus Cancer Society, we hear them all the time. In DMs. In workshops. In the pause before someone says, “Okay, this might sound weird but…”

It’s not weird. It’s young adulthood colliding with cancer. And that’s complicated stuff. So I’m making space for the questions that don’t fit neatly into a medical visit, the ones you Google at 2 am, or that you feel scared to say outloud. 

I’m Perrie (okay, it’s me, Lauren Morales, the Senior Program Coordinator writing under a pseudonym!), a licensed clinical social worker and young adult Hodgkin Lymphoma survivor who has spent years working alongside young adults impacted by cancer. I’ve sat in hospital rooms, on both sides of the chair. I’ve been in the infusion rooms and support groups. I’ve also helped support folks throughout their treatment and in the post-treatment “WTF just happened” space. I’ve heard the questions people whisper and the ones they laugh off (I’ve had them myself…..) And I know how isolating it can feel to carry them alone.

Ask Perrie is Cactus Cancer Society’s new advice column for young adults navigating every phase of the cancer experience, from diagnosis to treatment to survivorship to recurrence, and for co-survivors walking alongside them. This isn’t therapy. It’s perspective. Context. Language for the things that feel hard to name. Honest, thoughtful responses grounded in real, lived, and professional experience.

This is where you can ask questions like:

I’m surviving, but I am so sad, and everyone keeps just telling me to be grateful. Does that make me ungrateful?
Is it bad that I can’t listen to my friends complain about “normal” things anymore?
How do I date in this body, and when do I know I’m ready?
Why does everyone think I’m strong when I feel completely and totally exhausted?
How do I deal with my friend ghosting me since I told them I was diagnosed?
How do I support my partner/family member without disappearing myself?
Who even am I now?

Each month, Perrie will answer submitted questions with nuance, compassion, and the occasional gentle reality check. Because you deserve answers that treat you like a whole person, not just a diagnosis. Questions will then be posted online in our blog, socials, and newsletter. 

Submit your question anonymously here.

Cancer didn’t come with instructions. Let’s write some together.

When Cancer Isn’t Just Physical: Taking Care of Your Mental Health

Cancer doesn’t just change your body. It can reshape your identity, your plans, and your connection to the world around you. For many young adults, the emotional side of cancer can hit just as hard (if not harder) as the physical side, and it often lingers long after treatment ends.

Let’s get one thing straight: struggling doesn’t mean you’re weak. You’re responding to an extraordinary situation. The fear of recurrence, the brain fog, the sadness, the grief, the “what now?” questions, they’re normal reactions to an experience that turns life upside down! You are a human going through something extraordinary. 

Before you dive in further into this article, I want to invite you to take a breath and check in with yourself. Notice your emotional weather. If this feels heavy, pause and come back later. This content is here to support you, not overwhelm you, when you are ready. 

Below I’m going to talk about some of the common emotional responses to cancer, some of my lived experience, and recommendations I have to help support yourself inside of these experiences. 

The Emotional Whiplash of Cancer

When you hear “you have cancer,” your body can go into survival mode. Suddenly you are focused on making it to your next round of chemo or radiation, it can be common to feel as though you blinders on to the rest of the world while you navigate treatment. As your body begins to navigate the uncertainty of cancer, you might start to notice mood changes like depression, anxiety, or panic. 

You might feel it as restlessness before scans, dread before appointments, or sadness that doesn’t quite lift. These reactions are common, and I’ve had them! They’re not character flaws, they’re how your mind and body respond to uncertainty and loss. Even if treatment ends, these symptoms can stick around like uninvited guests or amplify. For me, this has felt like emotional whiplash. I went from auto-pilot in treatment to feeling completely overwhelmed in survivorship. 

A quality therapist can help you identify what you’re feeling and give those feelings room to breathe. Healing isn’t about being positive all the time; sometimes it’s about being curious, brave, or just willing to try again tomorrow. Research shows that therapists such as Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and Mindfulness are tools that can help survivors navigate the emotional whiplash of cancer. For me, I’ve found that Somatic therapies like EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and IFS (Internal Family Systems) to be very helpful in working through trauma. 

And something to remember small steps matter: getting out of bed, texting a friend, or joining a support group all count as movement toward healing.

The Grief That No One Talks About

Cancer brings loss in so many forms: health, independence, fertility, friendships, even the future you once imagined. This kind of grief doesn’t always get the validation it deserves. In psychology we often call this disenfranchised grief: grief that is not or cannot be openly acknowledged, publicly mourned, socially supported, or that is misunderstood or trivialized. People might say, “At least you’re alive,” when what you really need is validation and, “I know this is hard, I see you.”

Grief after cancer isn’t linear. You might feel peace one day and frustration the next. That’s okay. Think of grief as something you grow around, it doesn’t disappear, but you slowly learn to live alongside it. Grief isn’t a failure to move on. It’s evidence of how deeply you’ve lived, loved, and changed. Making space for your feelings of grief, talking about it with other YAs or survivors can often be an important step in learning how to hold grief compassionately. 

Body Image, Identity, and the Self You See Now

Many survivors struggle to recognize themselves after cancer. Scars, hair loss, swelling, weight changes……they’re visible reminders of what you’ve been through. And sometimes, it’s not just “I look different,” it’s “I feel different.”

Maybe intimacy feels different. Maybe mirrors feel like strangers. Research shows one in three survivors experiences lasting body image distress. These feelings are real and they’re workable.

Therapies that include body awareness, self-compassion, and narrative work can help you rebuild trust with your body. The goal isn’t to “get over it.” It’s to reclaim your story and reconnect with the self you see now.

When the Body Remembers: Medical Trauma

Cancer can be traumatic, period. The diagnosis, the hospital smells, the needles, the waiting rooms. Even years later, certain sounds or places can trigger physical reactions like nausea, panic, or tension. That’s called medical trauma, and it’s common.

You’re not overreacting. Your nervous system learned to protect you. Trauma-informed therapies, like EMDR, somatic work, or CPT (Cognitive Processing Therapy), can help your body learn safety again.

You can heal. You can trust your body again. It just takes time and the right kind of support.

Finding a Therapist Who Gets It

You deserve care from someone who understands that cancer doesn’t end when treatment does. A good therapist can help you process what’s happened, rebuild your sense of self, and learn new ways to live meaningfully with what’s changed.

Here’s how to start:

How to Find a Therapist

Search for professionals who specialize in oncology, chronic illness, or trauma.

  • American Psychosocial Oncology Society (APOS): Therapist directory focused on oncology support.

  • Psychology Today and TherapyDen: Let you search by specialty, identity, and location.

  • Inclusive Therapists: A directory centering BIPOC, LGBTQ+, and marginalized communities.

Most cancer centers also have social workers or psychologists who can refer you to trusted providers. And if in-person therapy feels hard to manage, telehealth sessions can make accessing care easier.

What to Look For

Credentials matter, but comfort matters more. Research shows the therapeutic relationship,  how safe and understood you feel,  is the strongest predictor of healing (Wampold & Imel, 2015).

When interviewing therapists, you can ask:

  • Have you worked with people affected by cancer or chronic illness?

  • How do you support clients with medical trauma or scanxiety?

  • What’s your approach to grief or body image?

Trust your instincts. You deserve a therapist who feels like a safe space, not another appointment to endure.

Mental Health Resources for Young Adults Impacted by Cancer

If you’re ready to start looking for support but not sure where to begin, Cactus Cancer Society has compiled a directory of trusted mental health and peer support resources just for young adults impacted by cancer.

Here’s a preview of what you’ll find there:

Inclusive & Culturally Affirming Directories

  • Inclusive Therapists — Find BIPOC, LGBTQ+, and affirming therapists across the U.S.

  • Therapy for Black Girls — A thriving community and therapist directory for Black women and girls.

  • Therapy for Latinx — Connect with Latinx-identifying, culturally responsive therapists.

  • Asian Mental Health Collective — Community and therapist directory focused on reducing stigma in Asian communities.

  • StrongHearts Native Helpline — 24/7 culturally grounded emotional support for Native Americans (1-844-7NATIVE).

Affordable Therapy Options

  • Open Path Collective — Sliding-scale therapy starting around $40–$70 per session.

  • TherapyDen — Inclusive therapist directory with filters for race, gender, and faith.

  • Psychology Today — Comprehensive national therapist directory with location and insurance filters.

Specialized Support

  • Neurodivergent Therapists Collective — For neurodivergent individuals seeking affirming care.

  • HeadsUpGuys — Resources for men’s mental health.

  • Give An Hour — Free counseling for veterans, survivors of violence, and those facing illness.

These resources were chosen with young adults in mind — people who need care that’s flexible, inclusive, and holistic. Take your time exploring. The right fit is out there.

The Strength to Keep Going

Taking care of your mental health isn’t about fixing what’s wrong. It’s about nurturing what’s still growing. You’ve already made it through so much,  that’s resilience! Therapy, support, and community can help you move from just surviving to truly living.

If you’re ready to find support that gets it, explore our full Mental Health & Peer Support Resources for Young Adults Impacted by Cancer. You’re not alone in this. Help is here — and you deserve it.

References

Álvarez-Pardo, S., López-Sosa, B., Pérez-Fuentes, M. D. C., & Gázquez-Linares, J. J. (2023). Factors associated with body image and self-esteem in mastectomized breast cancer survivors. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 20(6), 5154. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph20065154

Bui, K. T., Liang, R., Kiely, B. E., Brown, C., Dhillon, H. M., & Blinman, P. (2021). Scanxiety: A scoping review about scan-associated anxiety. BMJ Open, 11(5), e043215. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmjopen-2020-043215

Cowles, K. V., & Rodgers, B. L. (1991). The concept of grief: A foundation for nursing research and practice. Research in Nursing & Health, 14(2), 119–127. https://doi.org/10.1002/nur.4770140207

Hayes, S. C., Strosahl, K. D., & Wilson, K. G. (2011). Acceptance and Commitment Therapy: The process and practice of mindful change. Guilford Press.

Hofmann, S. G., Asnaani, A., Vonk, I. J. J., Sawyer, A. T., & Fang, A. (2012). The efficacy of cognitive behavioral therapy: A review of meta-analyses. Cognitive Therapy and Research, 36(5), 427–440. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10608-012-9476-1

Kabat-Zinn, J. (2003). Mindfulness-based interventions in context: Past, present, and future. Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice, 10(2), 144–156. https://doi.org/10.1093/clipsy.bpg016

Kübler-Ross, E., & Kessler, D. (2005). On Grief and Grieving: Finding the meaning of grief through the five stages of loss. Scribner.

Niedzwiedz, C. L., Knifton, L., Robb, K. A., Katikireddi, S. V., & Smith, D. J. (2019). Depression and anxiety among people living with and beyond cancer: A growing clinical and research priority. BMC Cancer, 19, 943. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12885-019-6181-4

Oncology Nursing Society. (2018). Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in cancer survivors. Retrieved from https://www.ons.org/publications-research

Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological foundations of emotions, attachment, communication, and self-regulation. W. W. Norton & Company.

Shapiro, F. (2017). Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) Therapy: Basic principles, protocols and procedures (3rd ed.). Guilford Press.

Spiegel, D., & Classen, C. (2000). Group therapy for cancer patients: A research-based handbook of psychosocial care. Basic Books.

Tedeschi, R. G., & Calhoun, L. G. (2004). Posttraumatic growth: Conceptual foundations and empirical evidence. Psychological Inquiry, 15(1), 1–18. https://doi.org/10.1207/s15327965pli1501_01

Tonkin, L. (1996). Growing around grief: Another way of looking at grief and recovery. Bereavement Care, 15(1), 10. https://doi.org/10.1080/02682629608657396

Uchino, B. N. (2006). Social support and health: A review of physiological processes potentially underlying links to disease outcomes. Journal of Behavioral Medicine, 29(4), 377–387. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10865-006-9056-5

Wampold, B. E., & Imel, Z. E. (2015). The Great Psychotherapy Debate: The evidence for what makes psychotherapy work (2nd ed.). Routledge.

White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends. Norton.

Desert Dispatch: A Sustainability Pop-Up

I love projects that feel intentional and a little rebellious in the best way. The kind that invites you to slow down, touch real paper, and make something without pressure or performance. That’s Desert Dispatch.

For a limited time, Cactus Cancer Society is releasing a Desert Dispatch Sustainability Pop-Up, a limited-edition art experience with just 50 dispatches available. Created by young adult cancer patients, survivors, and caregivers, each dispatch delivers creativity, connection, and a moment worth savoring straight to your mailbox. Paper still hits different.

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Cody’s Corner: New Year, Same Me, & a Slightly Bigger Bubble

Welcome to 2026! Yes, it’s already 2026…somehow. No idea how we’re over halfway through
the decade, but that’s what my calendar says!

2025 is over with – let the last of that year fade away like the vestiges of warmth after leaving the
cocoon of blankets on your bed in the morning.

I hope all of you ended 2025 (or welcomed 2026!) in your ideal way, be it a party with friends or a relaxing night at home. For me, I usually spend it at home with my parents and sister watching movies and eating hors d’oeuvres that my mom made. We’ll turn on the Times Square ball drop around 11:30 or thereabouts and count down when the clock runs towards the final seconds of the year: ten, nine, eight, seven, six… and when it hits midnight, we’re in 2026!

Every single thing we do after that is the first time that we have done that since 2025. Take a breath one second into the new year? That’s your first breath of the year! Take a sip of a drink? Wow! You haven’t drunk anything in a year! What are you doing next in 2026?

At the start of the year, many people make New Year’s resolutions – I remember reading a study once that said only around 10% of resolutions are kept. Personally, I’m not a resolution kind of guy – but the stereotypical resolution involves dieting, exercise, or some other kind of societal pressure. I have never been a resolution setter, but I will sometimes do a personal inventory -nothing formal, just a quick look inside and see what Inside Cody is saying. Then I’ll see if I can categorize these wants and needs and figure out the difficulty level of it. I’ll have short term (1-2 month), medium term (3-6 month), and long term (6-12+ month) goals – most of mine are in the short and medium term, since with a chronic cancer I can’t really go “five years from now…” (who knows where I will be in terms of treatment? Right now I am doing well on my trial, but who knows how long I will be doing this well?). I need to focus on the here and now, while having a bit of an eye looking towards the future.

Now you might be wondering, “What things might you want to do in 2026, Cody?” Honestly, I
don’t know. I have a rough sketch of my year – I will probably try to write a few articles for
Elephants & Tea I’ve been thinking about applying for a scholarship to Stupid Cancer’s Cancer Con  in Seattle from April 30th to May 3rd. Scholarship applications open January 5th and close January 19th, and I am going to try my darndest to attend Young Adult Cancer Camp, which is put on by Elephants and Tea and Young Adult Survivors United. If you haven’t been to that camp, I highly recommend it.

This year I will continue to attend some of my favorite Cactus Cancer Society programs: Coffee & Oodles, 30 Minute Tune Up, and the Guy’s Discussion Group. I don’t know what else I will do
this year, but I will definitely keep you guys up to date – maybe there will be something that you
will also be interested in trying out!

As I write this article, snow blanketed my yard overnight. Birds keep flocking to the window
feeder that we have (and most of them are fleeing before I can get a picture!). The snow is nice
and fresh – untouched by animal paw prints and people (…for now). Here’s a photo of my yard
that I took while taking a break from writing this.

2026 is a new year – we don’t know what awaits us, no matter how hard we glare at the snow in
the field that is the next 365 days. We might find some great things, we might encounter some
horrible things, and we’ll hopefully have a lot of bland, boring days in the year ahead. Now that
my chronic cancer is stable I adore the bland, boring days. I have my days where I am
interesting – I will always have those days by virtue of having a rare cancer, my body will
inevitably do something to interest someone (even if it is just a one-time abnormal result on a
blood test), but I hope to avoid those days as much as I can.


While I relish the bland and boring, every day being the same is nice…to a point – it’s a warm
comfy blanket of sameness, it’s the place you feel the safest, the comfort zone. Leaving the
comfort zone is hard, why would I ever want to do that? It becomes boring doing the same thing
day after day, so occasional steps outside of the comfort zone are necessary.


Leaving the comfort zone is especially difficult for me – I’ve mentioned in the past that I am
autistic, and one of those stereotypical autism traits is that we don’t like change. That rings true
with me! I dislike change, I don’t like spontaneity, I don’t like things being shaken up. When I go
on a trip, I make an excel spreadsheet beforehand with restaurants and activities saying what
day we should go to what restaurant for what meal, what activities should happen that day, and
I all but schedule our free time! I take comfort in the schedule, comfort in the routine, I know
what is coming up; sure, a wrench might be thrown in the works every once in a while, but those
are ideally few and far between.


This year, I will expand the bubble that is my comfort zone. I will try to meet up more with my
cancer friends (some of us already meet monthly for a trivia night at a local restaurant!) so
meetups with them are firmly in my comfort zone. I will push as much as I semi-comfortably can,
since you cannot leave your comfort zone without some discomfort; some unpleasantness, even
while doing fun activities, will always be present – the anxious brain loves doing that.
When I write these articles, I usually listen to some music to help my brain focus, concentrate, to
let the ideas flow from my brain to my keyboard. A song I was listening to on YouTube (I usually
listen to stuff on Spotify or YouTube) snatched my attention through the introduction of the
music video. It’s a spoken bit that goes as follows:


“I feel like stepping into a new version of yourself kind of feels like a death. We grow, make
mistakes, move on, and then one day we wake up and realize we’re nothing like the person we
once were. That person just vanished, disappeared completely and we never got to say
goodbye.” From Rest in Peace by BLÜ EYES.

This makes me think of two things at the same time: me before cancer and me after diagnosis (I
will never really have an “after cancer” in the sense of it being gone outside of the scanxiety
specter that haunts all of us). Me before cancer was shy, timid, anxious, an occasional self-
advocate, and someone who was an occasional fixture in waiting rooms. After diagnosis? I’m
shy, timid, anxious, an accidental advocate, and a fixture in waiting rooms. Sure that doesn’t
sound like much, but it is. My nervousness led me to research a lot in the initial days post
diagnosis; I found a lot of the resources that I recommend to people now in those days where I
was on the couch muttering “ow” whenever I moved because I was recovering from a bone
marrow biopsy. I didn’t wake up one day suddenly knowing how to do these things – it gradually
happened over time, like a snowball rolling down a hill until one day I was slinging resources like
it was my job or something. You don’t realize the gradual changes because they are just that –
gradual. They happen slowly over time at a pace where you don’t even realize it is happening
until suddenly we’ve changed. Ideally, the change has been for the positive and we can
embrace it – but sometimes it isn’t, but we can work on improving that, we can change.


In the spirit of Coffee & Oodles, why not take five minutes and respond to that spoken piece?
Maybe listen to the full song. What comes to mind when you think of the you who vanished?
Who do you want to grow into? The start of a new year is a great time to think about the you
that you want to put forth this year; who do you want to grow up to be this year? Who do you
want to be in 2026? What are your goals? Grab a piece of paper or open up your preferred word processor and let the words flow, you might surprise yourself.


I hope all of you have a wonderful January!

Now, it’s time for some resources!

This is the time of year where if you are thinking about going to an outdoor adventure camp, you should start checking out the different organizations and
looking at their schedules to see what fits into your calendar. As a note, I have not attended any of these – I have just heard of them.


The most popular one in the YA community is First Descents, and they have programs based around the country (they recommend you go to a program located in a place you haven’t been to in order to get the full experience) where you do rock climbing, kayaking, or surfing (different places for each activity). If you are wondering what accommodations they can make, they have an adaptability guide here.

Other ones include Camp Koru, which is a camp that does surfing.

Epic Experience is a weeklong camp in Colorado.

True North Treks is an organization that leads cancer survivors on hikes that are 4-6 nights long.

Camp Mak-a-dream is a camp based in Montana that has programs for people of all ages affected by cancer. Note: Their young adult programs are for people aged 18-35. Their Young Adult Conference is August 12th-16th and their Young Adult Brain Tumor Camp is June 17th-22nd. Applications for those open February 9th.

Have a question for Cody? Want him to write about a specific topic? Reach out! program@cactuscancer.org