Speaker Series Talk: The Sum of Survival – Jenn

surviving young adult cancer

Our 3rd Speaker Series talk is live!  Check out Jenn’s talk on The Sum of Survival in the video below!

Chatting with Jenn was a real treat.  A few minutes after we stopped recording the talk she said, “I survived up until now and if that changes tomorrow, I’ll deal.”  Such an insightful remark from someone who has been through so much.

What does it mean to survive? To me it’s living life to the fullest while you’re here on this planet. Some people feel like the term survivor doesn’t apply once their cancer came back – I disagree. Every day you get up – no matter how hard – you survive. It’s another day to make memories, say I love you or sleep in. Being a survivor carries a HUGE burden. Once you’ve gone through cancer people think you should be farting rainbows. Wrong! We have good days and bad just like anyone else … and snarled traffic, a bad hair day, and rude people still set us off. I do feel uncomfortable saying the term survivor sometimes because of all these misconceptions, I’m no superhero, I’m no braver than anyone else in my situation – the simple truth of the matter is that I’ve survived all that life has thrown at me so far … and that’s good enough.

Psst…want to submit a topic for a future Speaker Series?  You can do so here!

The Sum of Survival: Speaker Series Program Announcement!

surviving young adult cancer

A few months ago we launched our newest program here at Lacuna Loft, the Speaker Series!  Our third Speaker Series Talk will launch on Wednesday, October 4th!  Starting on that day, you’ll be able to watch Jenn talk about The Sum of Survival.  While the talk won’t be live, we’d love for you to submit your questions!  After reading a little abstract on the talk, fill out the short form at the bottom of this post with all of your questions!  Submit as many as you want and Jenn will do her best to answer them at the end of her talk!

What does it mean to survive? To me it’s living life to the fullest while you’re here on this planet. Some people feel like the term survivor doesn’t apply once their cancer came back – I disagree. Every day you get up – no matter how hard – you survive. It’s another day to make memories, say I love you or sleep in. Being a survivor carries a HUGE burden. Once you’ve gone through cancer people think you should be farting rainbows. Wrong! We have good days and bad just like anyone else … and snarled traffic, a bad hair day, and rude people still set us off. I do feel uncomfortable saying the term survivor sometimes because of all these misconceptions, I’m no superhero, I’m no braver than anyone else in my situation – the simple truth of the matter is that I’ve survived all that life has thrown at me so far … and that’s good enough.

Psst…want to submit a topic for a future Speaker Series?  You can do so here!

Flashback #19: How To Tell Your Kids About Cancer

how to tell kids about cancer

To celebrate our 2-year anniversary of being a nonprofit, Lacuna Loft is bringing back our top 31 articles from our archives!  This is Flashback #19: How To Tell Your Kids About Cancer, written by Jenn. These 31 articles are the best of the best and we’re very happy to share them with you again!  The countdown continues tomorrow!

….I think the worst day of my life was the day my husband and I chose to tell our young boys about my cancer diagnosis. We both knew we had to tell them sooner rather than later. Things move fast in a household turned upside down when cancer barges in. I had already been home from work for a few days, recovering from a biopsy and then meeting my surgeon for the pathology reports and going for the seemingly endless tests that follow…..

……

Read the rest of the article here!

Flashback #23: Interview With Cancer Survivor Jenn!

breast cancer survivor

To celebrate our 2-year anniversary of being a nonprofit, Lacuna Loft is bringing back our top 31 articles from our archives!  This is Flashback #23: Interview With Cancer Survivor Jenn! was an interview with Jenn. These 31 articles are the best of the best and we’re very happy to share them with you again!  The countdown continues tomorrow!

….Lacuna Loft: What was your biggest parenting challenge during cancer treatment and into survivorship?

Jenn: I lost my job during treatment so I used the opportunity to volunteer at their schools and participate as team mom for the sports they played. Yea, I was the bald mom at football practice and in art class but I used it as a teaching moment for all the kids. Some asked to see my head without my hat or scarf and I happily obliged. I wanted my kids to know that no matter what I’d still be their mom and I’d always be there for them. The toughest part though was when another child told one of mine that I was probably going to die. I had to do a lot of damage control, I certainly couldn’t predict the future but I couldn’t have my kids living in fear either. I always tell them (still to this day) I’m fine right now….

……

Read the rest of the interview here!

Let’s Talk About Sex

sex after young adult cancer

This post is brought to us by Jennifer!  If you missed her interview with Lacuna Loft, you can find it here!  You can find all of her posts here.

“Let’s talk about sex, baby. Let’s talk about you and me. Let’s talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be… let’s talk about sex.”

– Salt N Pepa, “Let’s Talk About Sex”

The speed at which your head spins upon getting a cancer diagnosis eventually stops. You right your course; you hold your head up and barrel through invasive tests, treatment and surgeries. You may lose body parts. You may go into ‘I don’t care just get it out of me’ mode. You may cry, break things, and climb under the covers for as long as you can withstand not having to eat or pee. It’s all normal and it’s all okay. There is no right or wrong way to deal with cancer. There will be a time when you catch a glimpse of your pre-cancer life after the haze of treatment. Maybe you’ll go shopping or out to lunch. Perhaps you’ll make time for a quick mani-pedi with a friend or enjoy the solitude of sipping a cup of coffee alone in a café. In pieces, it comes back; a subtle reminder of the complete person you were pre-cancer. But in the trenches of treatment we may forget, in addition to human beings, we are intimate sexual beings as well. That is typically the last piece of the puzzle to fit into place.

The words sexuality and cancer, when used together, are an oxymoron. How can you possibly feel desirable, or attractive when you’ve been chopped up and put back together? As a breast cancer survivor I frequently refer to my Franken-boobs, for they are unlike any other body part I was familiar with. They feel numb, alien, foreign and far from sexy, trust me, they are just for looks. Add to the extensive surgical recovery the indignities of chemotherapy: nausea, mouth sores (and sores in other areas where you have mucous membranes … wink, wink) and both diarrhea and constipation. If you need radiation you may have to deal with extreme fatigue and often painful burns and blisters. Good times? No. Sexy times? Not even close. But one thing I realized during my first visit to Cancertown is that intimacy is even more important than sexuality. If you are as lucky as I am to have a kind and extraordinarily patient partner, you realize that way, way, way before the physical must come the emotional. Being intimate with someone is so much more than a bump and grind between the sheets.

When I was in active treatment my husband and I set up a routine, which, unbeknownst to us, built intimacy. While I was on disability the first thing we would do in the morning was go for a long walk at a local park. Sometimes holding hands sometimes not. There were times I wanted to be touched and times I needed to be self –contained, he respected that boundary. We would frequently grab a coffee and a bagel on the way to treatment (I found heavy starchy carbs to be great at keeping the nausea at bay). After treatment, if I felt well enough, we would go for a light lunch. We would sit across from each other in a booth, sometimes talking, sometimes reading the newspaper, sometimes doing the mundane like paying bills or making the week’s shopping list but we sat there, together. That’s intimacy. Once the hard-core chemo was done, and my appetite back to normal I still had to contend with my monthly Herceptin infusions. I would schedule them for late morning so that we could have our Herceptin lunch dates, afterwards. We were side by side, together. It wasn’t a turn-on but it was intensely comforting. I set the pace and the boundaries and he respected that allowing intimacy to grow.

As my hair began sprouting and I lost that deathly pallor that cancer embedded into my skin I began feeling pretty good about myself. I could totally rock the buzz cut and cancer gave me a bit of swagger. I was a badass and I sure as hell worked it. My husband’s desire for me was always there … I just had to be ready to accept it. We started slow; there were many nights of simply snuggling, holding each other and talking. When I finally felt ready I asked my nurses for any tips and or tricks because my body, I could tell, was so different than it had once been. Their advice? “Oh sure honey, just use lube and protection.” Ummm, okay.

Armed with a vat of KY and a box of condoms I decided to tentatively step back in the sexytime ring, but within seconds my lady parts were screaming ABORT, ABORT, ABORT. See, my nurses never told me that using KY would be akin to sitting upon hot coals. So no. No sexytime for us that night.

When we were over the trauma of the fire crotch we tried again, but this time with coconut oil, which is truly the bomb-diggity! Was it great? No. Was it better than I expected? Yes. I felt a part of myself come back to life. We took time to build up the intimacy, which eventually bridged the gap, to desire, which then led to the good stuff. I got my groove back. We got our groove back. Then I found out I had cancer again.

This time my damn hormones were the driver, which meant after the bilateral mastectomy, after the DIEP flap reconstruction, after the drains, after the chemo and after the hair loss I was scheduled for a full hysterectomy. I was quickly being stripped of any and all femininity. Being put into chemical menopause twice before I even hit age 45 and then having all my lady parts removed was a real hit to my libido. All I could envision was myself quickly aging into a hairy, sexless troll. Sure I knew we had the tools from the first visit to Cancertown but could we do it again? Would I ever feel like an intimate sexual being again?

The short answer to that is yes. Like a camel that can go weeks without water while trudging through the hot dry sandy desert we, as sexual intimate human beings, can go quite a while without sexytime. The key is to build intimacy. Intimacy comes in many forms but at its root it’s about being together, communicating and understanding the boundaries and limits a loved one with cancer may be dealing with. It’s not easy and there is no set timeframe. Listen to your body and to each other. Remember, your partner may be terrified of hurting your newly scarred and reconstructed body as well. Talk through your fears and your feelings. Explain your needs and the ways your body has changed. Be honest and embrace each little pre-cancer piece that returns after the long dry spell.

How Will I Know?

This post is brought to us by Jennifer!  If you missed her interview with Lacuna Loft, you can find it here!  You can find all of her posts here.

I recently relocated to a state several hours away from where I’ve lived for the past 14 years. In my old state, my cancer state, I was well ensconced into my cancer community, giving speeches, writing for local publications, and making my presence known. My coworkers knew my situation, accepted it, and embraced me. But now, I’ve yet to divulge my cancer past to my new friends and current employers and I wonder if they notice the subliminal differences between me and other women they know. Have they Googled my name? How will I know how much they know? How do they view me? In awe or with pity?

Am I so dissimilar than other women? Do I appear stronger, or do I seem anxious or fragile? Are there more lines etched in my brow than most women my age?

Do I look like someone who had cancer? To me the signs are obvious but am I really an accurate representation of the women who have been marketed on thousands of products and advertisements? Am I damaged goods or a force to be reckoned with? Does a glimpse of one of my scars or tattoos beg questioning? Will they ask? Will I tell the truth? Do they wonder why I draw on my eyebrows?

Do I fit the image of a survivor? Or do I seem a victim? Do I appear happier than the average person? Do I seem more grateful or can you see the edge of bitterness I try so hard to hide because a disease barged into my life, uninvited, taking my breasts, and with them my innocence?

I wonder if they would they be surprised if I told them all of it; all of the pain behind the pink.

How would they view me?

Praying At The Church Of Rock And Roll

self-soothing with music

This post is brought to us by Jennifer!  If you missed her interview with Lacuna Loft, you can find it here!  You can find all of her posts here.

“A million miles away, your signal in the distance…to whom it may concern. I think I lost my way. Getting good at starting over every time that I return”

-Foo Fighters “Walk”

How do you soothe? How do you comfort? Not others-yourself, because sometimes that’s just the way things work out. I think it’s easy to comfort others. Sometimes it doesn’t even require words…just a hug, a sympathetic ear, or the offer to buy the next round. But soothing yourself? Getting inside your head and talking yourself down from the ledge? That’s tough and there are times that propping yourself up, giving yourself the old ‘one for the Gipper’ speech is not only your best option-it’s your only option.

On September 11th 2001, I found myself in a church. It was my youngest son’s first day of pre-school and his school just happened to be located at a Presbyterian church (for the record, I am neither a Presbyterian nor a church goer). I pulled into a parking space just as the radio broadcaster announced that the first tower had fallen. I walked my blissfully unaware three-year-old inside, kissed him good-bye and walked down the hall that connected the pre-school classrooms to the church. I sat quietly, alone and I squirmed. I reflected, thinking about my friends and family members that I knew were in New York City right that very minute, hoping that they were safe somewhere. I squirmed some more. I felt helpless, numb. I tried to pray, really I did, but praying is not my strong suit. I was never very good at it and always assumed, because my prayers so frequently seemed to go unanswered, I must be doing it wrong. So I left the church, walked out to my car and began shuffling through my CD’s. I needed to find something to listen to. To bring me comfort. To soothe me. While hymns, scripture, and prayer brings solace to many people, I get that from music.

That day, my first pick was U2. The first song I needed to hear? “One Tree Hill.” My go-to song that always seems to find my strength through my sorrow. It’s a song I’ve long associated with my dad, who passed away, when I was a child. When I visit his grave, before leaving, I often blow a kiss upwards and say; “I’ll see you again, when the stars fall from the sky.” From there I listened to “Bad”, “Unforgettable Fire”, and “God Will Send His Angels.” All were eerily appropriate. Next I queued up the Beatles, “A Day In The Life”,“Yesterday”, and “In My Life.” Eventually I moved on to Bruce Springsteen, “Born In The USA”, “My Hometown”, and “The River.” And that’s when I realized, after an hour or so of listening to music, I felt calmer and more at peace than I had in the church. By no means am I writing this to be blasphemous or controversial. It’s just how my brain is wired. I pray at the church of rock and roll. I worship the gods of music. It’s where I seek comfort. It’s how I self-soothe.

I’m always amazed and impressed by people that can randomly quote bible passages to suit any predicament. Yet, when I’m in crisis, I can just as easily quote Lennon/McCartney, Tyler/Perry, Bono and Grohl.

When I was diagnosed with cancer in 2007, the top three songs that I attached myself to were Don Henley’s “The End Of The Innocence” because, that’s exactly what it was – the end of my innocence. “How To Save A Life” by the Fray, because that’s what I was trying to figure out, how to save my life. And, when I had to really get out of my head, “Lose Yourself” by Eminem, because it was so easy to get myself lost in those lyrics and it made me want to fight. Even today, when any of those songs shuffle into rotation I feel both peaceful and empowered. When I wrote my book-I filled it with lyrics that correlated to what I was experiencing at the time. When my editor read it she suggested I remove the chapter breaks and let the song lyrics move the reader through the story. She said it was a really unique way to write and she hadn’t ever seen a book set up like that. For me, it just came very naturally.

Since being diagnosed again, the top three songs that mean the most to me right now are “Walk” by the Foo Fighters, because here I am starting over and learning to walk again. “All These Things That I Have Done” by The Killers, which reminds me that I’ve come so far, and I’ve done so much, and I’m not done yet. And The Beatles, “Let It Be” because, I sometimes have to just let it be; I can’t keep asking questions for which there are no answers.

And just like everyone else, I’ve created multiple playlists on my iPod and iPhone, but some of mine might be classified a little stranger. Sure I have the typical lists labeled for road trips, parties, the gym, and the office. But I also have ones labeled for chemo, hospital tests, and surgery prep. This is how I cope – and why, as you may have noticed each blog begins with a song. They are my lifeline, my theme music, my score.

Life is hard and life is beautiful. There have been times when life gets too hard and all I want to do is curl up in a dark hole and shut out the world…but I don’t. Instead, I’ve stitched together a quilt of my favorite songs, and it is with those that I wrap myself up gently. And when life is beautiful, I let loose the stitches, crank the volume up to 11 and I rock out.

How do you self-soothe?  Do you also pray at the church of rock and roll?

How To Tell Your Kids About Cancer

How To Tell Your Kids About Cancer

This post is brought to us by Jennifer!  If you missed her interview with Lacuna Loft, you can find it here!  You can find all of her posts here.

I think the worst day of my life was the day my husband and I chose to tell our young boys about my cancer diagnosis. We both knew we had to tell them sooner rather than later. Things move fast in a household turned upside down when cancer barges in. I had already been home from work for a few days, recovering from a biopsy and then meeting my surgeon for the pathology reports and going for the seemingly endless tests that follow.

As is typical in my house – I don’t overthink anything. I go with my gut and jump in with both feet. I didn’t know the right way to say or do what I was about to do but I did know
three things were paramount in that moment:

*I didn’t want to scare my children.
*I wanted to be honest.
*I needed to make sure they got their information from my husband and myself before overhearing a conversation that may confuse or frighten them.

We sat them down and explained my diagnosis in age appropriate terms. At the time they were 9 and 11 years old.

“Mommy found something hard in her breast and when something happens to your body that doesn’t seem right you go to see the doctor and get it checked out. Most of the time it is nothing serious but this time it is. Mommy has cancer. I’m going to have an operation and then I will have to take medicine that may make me feel tired and sick. I may lose my hair. But I’ll still be your mom. I’ll still be able to help you with your homework as long as it’s not math. We’ll still be able to do the things we like to do. Go out for pizza. See a movie. Go to the beach. I just might look a little different and get tired a little quicker.”

My husband asked if they had any questions. We assured them that they could ask us anything and we promised to give them an answer. If we didn’t know the answer, we’d find out the answer. We’d ask the doctors.

My oldest son asked if my hair was going to grow back. That was an easy answer, “yes!”

My youngest asked if I was going to die. Ummmm. Shit! If one of them was going to ask that question I knew it was going to be him. My response? “I don’t plan on it. I’m going to do everything the doctors tell me to do.”

What else was I going to say?

I hate the answer, “Well, we are all going to die someday.” And I certainly couldn’t say “no” because that would be a lie. I didn’t know how this was going to work out. I had no idea if I was going to respond well to treatment. I had no idea if my cancer had spread.

They sat there quietly. There wasn’t much to say. If they cried it wasn’t in front of me and anyway I was crying enough for all of us so there’s that. It took me a long time to become that stoic unflappable cancer chick you see now.

Treatment ended and we moved forward together as a family. My boys have grown into wonderfully compassionate, kind young men that make my heart burst with awe and pride. When I got sick again they were teenagers. I didn’t tell them this time, my husband did.

He picked them up from school and he said the words I couldn’t imagine dumping on them again. By the time I got home from work they were there, eager to hold and hug me. Telling me I kicked its ass once and I’ll kick its ass again.  Then one of them cracked a fart joke. The other laughed and within 5 minutes they had a disagreement about a video game which lead to a wrestling match in the family room.

At that moment I knew we were going to be okay. They have coping tools. They’ve learned to compartmentalize just like their mom. They understand it’s not all about the cancer. I’ve always refused to give the disease that much respect. I’ll accommodate and treat when necessary but I’m so much more than my rogue cells. I’m a mom. I’m a wife. I’m a badass survivor.

Interview With Cancer Survivor Jenn!

breast cancer survivor

Today we are continuing with one of our features, personal interviews!  You can read our past interviews here.  Today Cactus Cancer Society talks with cancer survivor, Jenn.  She is a two-time breast cancer survivor, talks to us about her book, parenting during a cancer diagnosis, and so much more!

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Cactus Cancer Society: When were you diagnosed and what is your diagnosis?

Jennifer: I found a lump in my breast in 2007 when I was 38. I assumed it was a cyst, it felt rubbery – not rock hard. I figured it would go away after I got my period – but it didn’t. I had gone for a mammogram 18 months prior (as a baseline and it was normal) so I called the imaging center at my husband’s urging (he didn’t like the way it felt at all) and they took me right away. After the mammo they sent me down for an ultrasound…and I began freaking out. No one would tell me anything – but they kept patting my shoulder. I knew it wasn’t going to be good news. A core needle biopsy came back inconclusive but two weeks later the surgical biopsy revealed invasive ductal breast cancer, stage IIA.

CCS: How did you feel when you were first diagnosed?

J: I was so deeply in denial. I really couldn’t wrap my head around it. I felt like I was telling a lie each time I told someone about my diagnosis. I thought breast cancer only ran in families or only happened to women over 40. I was clearly mistaken and I had a lot to learn. My surgeon told me that because the mass was contained and relatively small I would be a candidate for a lumpectomy. Fine by me – get it out, get it over with was my mindset. Once I saw an oncologist though he kept using the words aggressive and fast growing. Which made me nervous. I just wanted to get through treatment and get on with my life. I had no idea that my life would never be the same.

CCS: Who/what/where did you turn to?

J: I had terrific support from my family and friends but none of them had any experience with breast cancer. I went online and the pages I was directed to were terrifying and filled with statistics I was not ready to know yet. I struggled to find books or support groups geared toward young women. Everything I found was aimed at older women and the advice was to look at this as a gift, slow down, retire, and enjoy the grandkids. What the WHAT??? I had little boys at the time (age 9 and 11). This wasn’t a gift, gifts make people happy, cancer makes people cry. And retire? I was just getting my career back on track after taking a few years off while my boys were babies. Nothing made sense to me. I wanted to know what treatment would really be like, because in my head getting chemo meant that once the drip started I would immediately begin throwing up and all my hair would fall out at once in the doctors office, (clearly I’ve watched too much Lifetime television).

CCS: What (if any) additional outlets could you have used/turned to that you do not feel you had at the time?

J: I eventually found support at my local Cancer Support Community but typically I was the youngest of the bunch. There were only about three of us under 40 and in active treatment. There are so many wonderful resources that exist now that didn’t in 2007. Facebook groups and online support groups like Cure Diva and the LBBC both of whom also have a strong Facebook following.

CCS: How did you choose to share your diagnosis with your children?

J: Once we knew the stage and planned treatment we told them in very simple, honest terms that were age appropriate. I was diagnosed two days before my youngest son’s birthday so we waited until after his birthday to tell them both. They knew something was going on because I’d been home from work for over a week and we wanted to make sure they heard it directly from us rather than over hearing a conversation or voicemail message that would frighten them. We sat them down after dinner and explained that a few weeks prior mommy found something hard in her chest and when you feel something in your body that doesn’t feel right you go to the doctor to get it checked out. I told them that I went to the doctor and he ran tests and did a small operation and found out that I have breast cancer. I explained I was going to take medicine that might make me sick and tired and my hair might fall out but it would grow back in again. Very, very hard conversation to have, I felt like I stole their childhood away from them. They were amazing though, lots of hugs and kisses and support – even still to this day as young men!

CCS: What was your biggest parenting challenge during cancer treatment and into survivorship?

J: I lost my job during treatment so I used the opportunity to volunteer at their schools and participate as team mom for the sports they played. Yea, I was the bald mom at football practice and in art class but I used it as a teaching moment for all the kids. Some asked to see my head without my hat or scarf and I happily obliged. I wanted my kids to know that no matter what I’d still be their mom and I’d always be there for them. The toughest part though was when another child told one of mine that I was probably going to die. I had to do a lot of damage control, I certainly couldn’t predict the future but I couldn’t have my kids living in fear either. I always tell them (still to this day) I’m fine right now.

CCS: Any words of wisdom to other young adult cancer survivor moms (and dads) out there?

J: Break everything down into two categories; what you can control and what you cannot control. A cancer diagnosis makes you feel very out of control. You cannot control the treatment or the surgeries or how you will feel but there will still be things in your life that you can control so focus on that. It helps to feel empowered. Also, take it one day at a time. Rest when you need to, listen to your body, and take care of yourself first and foremost. You’re allowed to be selfish, you’ve earned it.

CCS: What kinds of things did you do to distract yourself when you were going through treatments (either at home or at the hospital… Or both)?

J: I began writing the book I needed to read. As I said earlier I couldn’t find a book that I could relate to and I had also lost my job while I was in treatment. I began keeping notes and eventually thought if I recorded, honestly, what it was like for me to go through treatments as a young mom then maybe I could make a pamphlet to help others. Once I hit over 100 pages I realized that my pamphlet was going to be a book. Does This Outfit Make Me Look Bald? was published in 2012, at the same time as my 5th cancerversary. I also listened to music, watched movies and napped – a lot!

CCS: How did you decide to start blogging about your experiences?

J: Interestingly enough, when I was promoting my book I had decided to have a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. Since my initial diagnosis I had several false alarms (benign growths) and I also had a complication of severe radiation deformity, which was physically and emotionally painful, it had become too much to bear. During the MRI prior to the surgery they found a small cancerous lesion at my lumpectomy sight. It was not a recurrence but a brand new cancer with different properties than the first one, this can happen 20% of the time – I had no idea. I knew the drill at this point though. I booked a haircut and a bilateral mastectomy on the same day. Once I was home and on disability leave I began blogging to help me process what I had been through and to keep my friends updated, it was incredibly cathartic. Since I had become such an outspoken advocate for empowering young women with breast cancer I had made multiple media contacts that had promoted my book I ended up with several sites running my blogs too.

CCS: Could you describe how sharing your story has affected your journey with Cancer?

J: I’ve helped women that I’ve never met and that means the world to me. I have no idea why or how I got cancer once – never mind twice. I always felt that if I could make the road a bit smoother for someone else then all the stuff I went though makes sense. I needed to give back to others and help them through my own experience. I have a Facebook fan page for the book where I post current articles about research, blogs (my own and others that I like), and also a lot of humor – because I know that during my darkest days I still wanted to laugh. I needed to find some humor. Being sick is so damn scary and so serious that on the days I laughed I felt like I was taking a vacation from cancer. I’m also a National Cancer Survivor’s Day (NCSD) recommended speaker; which is pretty cool. I’m asked to give about 4 or 5 speeches a year – and I love knowing that those talks reach even more people than my book and blogs do.

CCS: Where are you now in your journey with Cancer?

J: I’m fine until a doctor tells me otherwise. My blood work gets checked every six months and I see my surgeons once a year. I still deal with mild PTSD but I have my coping tools so I know how to manage that. I’m both a 9 year and 3 year survivor.

CCS: What do you like to do in your spare time?

J: I live near the beach so if the weather is nice – my toes are in the sand! I like to run a few times a week while listening to very loud music. I continue to write my blogs and I’m also working on a fictional novel. I also love going out to dinner with my husband and kids.

CCS: What “words of wisdom” and/or advice would you give any young adult facing Cancer or another life-threatening illness?

J: You’ll be amazed by your strength and you’ll have far more good days than bad so relish those. Breathe deep, relax, laugh and love in equal measure and cherish yourself first and foremost. Listen to your doctors and partner with them, be your own best advocate. And if you feel as if they are dismissive…fire them! You get to be the boss of cancer.

Thank you for sharing your story with us, Jenn!  Look forward to a few more pieces from Jenn soon!

Are you a young adult cancer survivor, caregiver, or do you have a long term illness?  Interested in being interviewed by Lacuna Loft?  Let us know!  We’d love to hear from you!