Maria Prato

In past encounters, a massage table and a set of laboring hands, rigorously kneading out the day’s tensions, had been a routine and welcomed sight for Shelly Bain.

But a stage 3 breast cancer diagnosis in the winter of 2014 would be a game-changer for the then-38-year-old Texan.

“I was someone who had gone for massages all throughout my life,” Bain says, “but when I went for a facial in between my diagnosis and chemo, the specialist was afraid to work on me.” Although the fear was unfounded, Bain recalls, “she was worried about spreading it.”

Four months of chemotherapy, a 12-hour bilateral mastectomy, reconstruction surgery and seven weeks of radiation only put Bain further on edge.

“I was so focused on the cancer treatment, I hadn’t had a chance to do a lot of self-care,” she says, “and I was so tired from it all.”

Oncology massage therapist GERI RUANE, right, poses with client SHELLY BAIN during a fundraiser for a breast cancer resource center. Ruane volunteered at the event, and Bain modeled an artist-crafted bra. [PHOTO COURTESY OF GERI RUANE]

 Once chemotherapy was underway, a few inquiries led Bain to the threshold of Geri Ruane.

A retired educator-turned-massage therapist, Ruane is one of a small but growing number of individuals in her field who specialize in treating former and current cancer patients. Ruane became a certified oncology massage therapist in 2011, and currently operates a burgeoning Austin-based private practice, Two Roads Massage Therapy.

“Now 50 percent of my clients have had treatments or are survivors of cancer,” she says.

 National findings are mimicking Ruane’s account, only to a larger degree.

 survey extrapolated that more than 38 million Americans make about 300 million visits each year to complementary and alternative medicine specialists, including acupuncturists, massage therapists and chiropractors.

As for future prospects, the U.S. Department of Labor Bureau of Labor Statistics’ 

 asserts that employment for massage therapists is expected to increase by 23 percent from 2012 to 2022, faster than the average rate for all occupations. According to the observations of those at one major industry organization, an increase is happening specifically in oncology massage, as well.

“Over the past few years, particularly, we have seen an increase in those who have taken our trainings and then been able to be recognized as preferred practitioners,” says MK Brennan, board president of the Society for Oncology Massage, a resource for the field’s practitioners and physicians alike.

A steady stream of Ruane’s patrons began their battles as patients of medical oncologist and hematologist Debra Patt, director of policy at Texas Oncology in Austin. According to Patt, who also regularly treats patients, oncology massage doesn’t factor into longevity. Nevertheless, the list of its positive impacts on overall health is lengthy.

“We’re big fans,” she says of the technique. “It’s great, because it’s not a pill that I have to give them.”

According to some leading cancer centers that offer it, oncology massage can help to alleviate a host of maladies associated with the disease, medications or other treatments: nausea, swelling, sleeplessness, anxiety, pain, neuropathy and mobility-reducing scar tissue. In addition, researchers at Emory University are studying whether the technique can help patients who are battling fatigue. “My goal might be to help them sleep better, to give them more energy or help decrease neuropathy,” Ruane echoes. “We consider their range of motion, if lymph nodes have been removed or if they have scar tissue.”

Lymphedema, a common side effect of cancer treatment, may be eased via oncology massage and manual lymph drainage. This condition affects patients who’ve undergone lymph node removal or radiation therapy. A blockage in the lymphatic system, which prevents lymph fluid from properly draining, can contribute to build-up and, consequently, swelling, most often in the extremities. It can also occur in the face, neck, abdomen and genitals.

Oncology massage therapists are trained in how to use the proper techniques (pressure and direction of stroke) in areas where fluid is retained, helping it drain. In a 2015 study of 80 patients, half of whom received abdominal massage for fluid retention caused by cancer, those who received massage experienced a perceived improvement in depression, anxiety, poor well-being and abdominal bloating.

 Many leading cancer centers see value in oncology massage, including MD Anderson, Fred Hutchinson, Dana-Farber and City of Hope, and studies provide some support for the value of this technique, although they are few and small.

One, published by the International Journal of Nursing Practice in April 2014, found that massage lessened pain and anxiety levels among pediatric cancer patients who were undergoing bone marrow therapy.

Another small 2014 study found that stress levels and health-related quality of life improved when oncology massage was administered to patients being treated for acute myelogenous leukemia. In addition, a 2013 study of 40 patients undergoing chemotherapy found that back massage reduced their levels of anxiety and fatigue.

As a proponent of oncology massage, Patt rarely misses an opportunity to clear up one of the more widely held misnomers about the practice.

“There is a myth about the concern of cancer spreading, which is not based in fact,” she says. “There’s no risk of the spread of cancer due to massage; there can be a risk of vulnerability to tissue.”

Managing, or working around, those vulnerable areas, such as broken bones, requires the therapist to have a good understanding of the medical condition, Patt says.

Knowledge remains power for patients with cancer who are having their first experiences with this still largely pioneering field.

“It’s important to go to a massage therapist who’s trained in this,” Ruane stresses. “Ask if they’ve had training in oncology massage. If so, what was their training and how would they adjust their massage techniques for that person?”

While there’s no national certification available in oncology massage, schools can certify through a program. When someone goes through a weekend workshop, they receive a certificate of completion; advanced certification programs are also available, although only at a sparse number of schools around the country.

Licensed in professional massage therapy in Texas in 2007, Ruane graduated from Lauterstein-Conway Massage School, in Austin, after accumulating 550 hours of training; since then, she’s spent another 1,000 hours in continuing education, including the certification program in oncology massage training at the Peregrine Institute of Oncology Massage Training in Santa Fe, New Mexico, a certification in complete decongestive therapy that included training in lymph node drainage, and training in geriatric and pediatric massage therapy.

During her oncology massage program, Ruane made a series of cross-country treks, during which she closely studied the precision of technique and targeted movements. She also devoted many hours to attending advanced classes, lectures and training, authoring papers on research and reflection, delving into community service projects and completing externships.

 It took 18 months of hands-on training for her to clench the coveted qualifications.

“You learn how to accommodate the health needs and goals for each person and how to modify existing massage techniques so that you can give a safe and effective massage to people living with cancer,” she says. “You might need to adjust your pressure, or you might need to modify the positioning of the person on the table. In addition, you would avoid touching certain areas due to drains, dressings or open wounds.”

For many in the industry, education doesn’t end at graduation, as the medical field continues to expand its understanding of the complexities of cancer. For example, Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center offers an online training course for massage therapists in medical massage for the cancer patient that includes 25 lectures over a span of 18 hours of coursework.

“Most recently, I took a class, here in Austin, about working with people at end of life,” Ruane says. “Since all of us are going to die someday, the information that I learned is going to help me personally, as well as help me with my clients and their families.”

She adds, “I’ve lost many clients, and it’s been hard. But I feel so honored to be able to offer my service to a person who really needs me, as well as being able to comfort the family.”

Basically, it becomes the client’s responsibility to ask the harder questions about the type of training received and the extent of experience a massage therapist has had with cancer patients, as well as to consult with a physician before embarking on the alternative therapy.

If a massage therapist offers a simplified explanation of his or her methods, promising a “gentler touch,” that should raise a red flag.

“Everyone’s interpretation of a gentle touch is somewhat different, so it’s really important that the massage therapist is trained,” Ruane says. “There are so many different types of touch. Oncology massage is not deep tissue, and we don’t massage over or near areas of known tumor involvement. Comfort, stress reduction and relaxation are some of the goals. I feel that not just compassion, but also clinical knowledge are necessary components for an oncology massage therapist.”

The questioning process should be a two-way street, with therapists asking for details about a patient’s condition.

In her industry travels, Ruane has been told that seeing background medical information, such as X-ray images or a doctor’s notes, is not necessary, although she would jump at the opportunity to have such extensive information about weakened bones, prescriptions, immune deficiencies or other issues. In reality, many oncology massage therapists rely on word of mouth, either from their clients, who explain their own conditions, or through consults with treating oncologists.

“Even with a doctor’s order, it is best for the client to see a trained oncology massage therapist, who will know the appropriate questions to ask to make safe adjustments to the massage, and who will often include the physician in the massage care plan conversation,” Ruane says.

Patients can begin their search for qualified oncology massage therapists in their local areas by visiting the website of the Society for Oncology Massage at s4om.org, clicking on the “Massage Therapists” button and scrolling down to the “Find a Therapist” section.

“Contact and other information is available on the therapist’s profile page so that patients, survivors, family and friends are able to discuss services and prices,” Brennan says.

On her first visit, the slight adaptations that distinguish oncology massage made all the difference for Bain.

“It’s a lighter touch, for sure,” she says. “The movement is very deliberate, toward the heart.”

In Bain’s case, having more than a dozen lymph nodes removed from the left side of her arm proved a hurdle in her road to recovery.

 “I had tissue taken from my abdomen and moved to my breast,” she says. “The thing that hurt the most was my lymph nodes. They cut through the muscle and there was tightness and pain.”

Weeks would pass before mundane household chores caused Bain to overexert her arm. On one particular day, she looked down to discover that her weary appendage had “blown up.”

A remedy, however, was a phone call away, as an antidote lingered at the tips Ruane’s fingers.

Trained in manual lymph drainage technique, Ruane would eventually send Bain on her way with noticeable relief, a few at-home tips for sleeping and sedentary positioning, a self-guided DVD for draining and the assurance that this was a surmountable obstacle.

“It’s not as relaxing as when she does it, but I can manage it on my own,” Bain says. “It shows you just how much she cares.”

While the physical rewards of oncology massage set in almost immediately for Bain, she gradually discovered that an inner healing was also afoot.

“Once you relax, you can get away from some of the scary places in your head — even if it’s just for an hour,” she says.

In fact, Ruane’s office has become a sacred space for many like Bain, who are grappling with a disease and, at the same time, coming to terms with their own mortality and physical limitations.

“There are those who have talked to me, who’ve cried, slept, snored or shared stories,” Ruane says. “They are just so appreciative of a compassionate touch from someone who understands…I think each person goes through it separately, feeling very much alone, and everyone has their own stories.”

While prices by treatment and packages vary, a typical 60-minute session with Ruane may run a client around $80.

“The average charge is $68 per hour, according to an industry report done by the American Massage Therapy Association (AMTA),” Brennan goes on to say. “The cost for a session will vary depending on location, but generally is between $60 and $120 per hour.”

Like most of this therapy’s loyal followers, Bain is paying strictly out-of-pocket, even though she believes her massage treatments — which continue although she’s been cancer-free for a year &mdash; are justified from a cost-benefit standpoint. Whereas health insurance payments for surgery, prescriptions and other commonplace cancer treatments are the status quo, by and large, insurance companies have not begun covering alternative therapies or holistic treatments.

According to a March 2015 article in U.S. News & World Report Health, insurers decide whether to cover alternative therapies based on the amount of supporting evidence available in peer-reviewed scientific journals. Aetna, for instance, does not cover massage. And if payment is offered for complementary therapies, insurers may cover only limited services or numbers of visits.

Yet 71 percent of American adults want their health insurance plans to pay for massage therapy, according to an AMTA industry fact sheet.

The Affordable Care Act enacted in 2010 may change the landscape for insurance coverage of alternative therapies.

In seven different sections, the law mentions complementary and alternative medicine and integrative health care, in part due to the lobbying efforts of the Integrative Healthcare Policy Consortium, a coalition of organizations backed by Capitol legislators who advocated for these unconventional treatments. In section 2706 of the law, one clause prohibits insurance companies from discriminating against health care providers, including integrative health care practitioners, with respect to their participation and coverage in health plans.

“While this section of the ACA has not been fully implemented, the state of Washington has had a similar provision in place for years, and two other states, Oregon and Rhode Island, have recently enacted their own versions of 2706,” Brennan says. “Hawaii and California will likely be bringing legislation forward again for consideration about this…In Canada, massage therapy is commonly covered by extended health benefits.”

Brennan encourages patients to appeal any insurer’s decision not to pay for oncology massage.

“Patient advocacy is one of the cornerstones for educating insurance companies, health care providers and others of the value of massage therapy when provided by someone trained in oncology massage,” she says.

There may be a flip side to pushing the issue, however.

 “It would be ideal if insurance companies covered complementary services,” Patt says, “but the natural consequences of that coverage expansion is that insurance premiums will increase.”

Already, the rare health plans that cover alternative treatments tend to require that patients pay higher deductibles, according to insweb.com, which answers insurance questions and offers quotes.

A handful of organizations are doing what they can to lighten the load. Angie’s Spa (angiesspa.org), for instance, is dedicated to providing free oncology massage services, currently at seven hospitals around the country.

“An example of this is MD Anderson Cancer Center (in Houston) that has received $20,000 from Angie’s Spa to support their massage, yoga and acupuncture services,” Brennan says.

And then there’s the nonprofit Oncology Massage Alliance (oncologymassagealliance.org). The group launched in Austin back in 2010, when a small troop of massage therapists, including Ruane, converged on Texas Oncology’s infusion room, offering free hand-and-foot massages to patients, caregivers, medical staff and even family members.

“A side effect (of chemotherapy) is neuropathy, numbness in hands and feet,” and the massages were intended to help relieve it, explains founding member and OMA Executive Director Gail Bailey.

Four massage therapists made up OMA’s original core team, a number that’s now ballooned to 37. Fundraising to support the group has gained momentum, too, from $5,000 in that first year to more than $25,000 in 2014.

Since OMA requires its massage therapists to acquire oncology massage training, it offers educational stipends to give its members a helpful nudge in the right direction. Using grants and donations, OMA also pays its therapists a nominal $25 per hour for their volunteer work — enough to offset expenditures like gas or product replacement.

“The goal for us would be to help therapists in their areas to connect with infusion centers,” Bailey says. “It gives therapists an opportunity to work, and it helps medical professionals open up and bring in integrated medical services.”

As of late, this altruistic faction has exported its services from Austin to Dallas, Houston and beyond. In mid-October, Bailey received word that OMA affiliates had been approved to begin visiting patients at a medical facility in Medford, Oregon.

“There’s a special bond you get when you provide this service to someone going through cancer,” Bailey says. “We’re not medical staff, we’re not taking (extensive histories, physical examinations), vitals or blood. There’s no stress with burdening the family and there’s no agenda that they have to worry about.”

The response from the Center at Providence Hospital in Medford regarding OMA’s arrival was in kind.

“It’s been wonderful,” said David Adams, a charge nurse with the Medford facility’s infusion center. “The patients love it. It puts them at ease, it gives them a feeling that we care about their needs. It’s a great part of the holistic approach.” 

Articles

Oncology massage can help alleviate many symptoms of cancer and its treatments, as long as practitioners have the right qualifications.

A Touch of Healing: Massage Can Alleviate Symptoms of Cancer, Treatments

 it took a single phone call in January 2009 to unravel more than a decade of corporate climbing in the demanding and high-stakes world of finance.

	Her blood work, and now a doctor, were confirming what her body had been trying to tell her for months.

	“I thought I was the healthiest person I knew, until I wasn’t,” she says. “I thought it was Lyme disease or mono. I never thought it was a blood cancer.”

	An acute myeloid leukemia diagnosis would immediately land a then 39-year-old Tonry in a New Brunswick, N.J., hospital for what physicians anticipated would be a three-day stay.

	“I told my boss I’d be back by Friday; I never came back,” Tonry says. “That hospital stay was a 32-day visit. They started me on chemo that night, and it was 24 hours a day. I was scared, and it was very surreal.”

	A workaholic, Tonry converted her temporary sterilized digs into a pseudo office. There, she remotely scrutinized hospitals’ financial records and gave investors a bedside assurance of bond repayments on behalf of a statewide authority in health care facility financing.

	“I actually brought my laptop and I worked in my hospital bed during chemo,” she says. Even as she underwent more treatment over the following months, “I thought I’d be back to work by December.”

	After some time to think, though, Tonry went in an entirely different direction, starting a nonprofit quilting business aimed at providing comfort to patients like herself.

	“I feel like I got sick, and it was God’s way of saying, ‘You haven’t been listening. I’m not punishing you. You can have what you want in your life,’” Tonry says. “Once I got away from having to work, I saw that there were other opportunities.”

	It’s a dynamic that Rebecca V. Nellis, chief mission officer of Cancer and Careers — the only cancer organization whose mission is focused on work &mdash; sees often.

	“The cancer experience for some is eye-opening, and there’s a drive for more meaning in their work or flexibility in their work,” she says. “In broad strokes, we’re seeing more people shifting careers.”

After cancer, SUE TONRY left a job in finance to start a nonprofit that makes quilts for patients. 

While many drop out of the workforce after a cancer diagnosis, most end up returning. According to a 2005 report titled “Cancer Survivors at Work: A Generation of Progress,” between 62 and 84 percent of those who’ve had cancer end up returning to work.

	Whether they wind up going back to their existing jobs or starting new ones depends on several factors.

	“For some people, it’s determined by what their treatment is necessitating and the reality of what they can do,” Nellis cautions. “There are always many things that people going through cancer treatment need to consider and balance when it comes to supporting themselves, their families and their recovery.”

	Some leave or switch jobs due to cognitive dysfunction, fatigue, neuropathy, lymphedema, time-consuming doctor’s appointments and concern about contracting colds or other illnesses while immunosuppressed. On the flip side of the coin, other survivors cite health insurance and income as reasons for sticking with their original jobs.

	But beyond physical and financial concerns are matters of the spirit. Cancer, with all of its looming implications, has a unique way of sparking self-examination and igniting long-term change, and that motivates some to find new career paths.

I Don’t Know What I Want, But I Know It’s Not This: A Step-By-Step Guide To Finding Gratifying Work

	“With cancer, you realize meaning is of the utmost importance,” says Julie Jansen, a career coach with Cancer and Careers and author of 

. “You can define meaning in a number of ways. But for people with cancer, it often means making a difference for other people.”

	Nellis has primarily witnessed cancer become a catalyst for these transitions in middle-aged females, who tend to veer toward more mission-based work. So it’s not entirely surprising that Tonry’s story would take on a similar shape.

	Seeing marked improvements after her first round of chemo, Tonry enrolled in quilting classes with one goal in sight: stitching her way to 40 quilts by her 40th birthday. More and more, she consumed herself with patterns, pins, patchwork and seams. They brought with them solace and strength. But when it came time for Tonry to distribute the finished products to patients at her hospital, yet again, a physician with a long face delivered somber news.

	“My doctor came out with my labs and said, ‘How quickly can your husband get here?’” Tonry recalls.

	Even after a successful bone marrow transplant, doctors dealt Tonry yet another major blow, discovering a leukemic mass on her spine and leukemia in her spinal column. She underwent radiation, but then hospice was called in, last rights were administered and Tonry was instructed to say her goodbyes.

	“Each of my kids spent the night in bed with me, and I was ready to go,” she says.

	Short of declaring a miracle, doctors still can’t fully explain how Tonry recovered — but, slowly, she did. 

	“When I didn’t die, my work called me up,” she says. “They were waiting. But I told them, ‘I can’t. I don’t even know if I’m going to be alive next week. I need to spend time with my kids.’” 

	Even as she took time off from work, somewhere deep down, she knew a revival was on its way. 

	It happened when Tonry veered into uncharted territory, turning her passion, Quilts for Comfort, into a nonprofit organization. Since founding Quilts for Comfort, Tonry and her volunteers have churned out hundreds of homespun pieces to children and adults waging a fight against blood cancer. 

	“I wanted to focus on those people who were isolated due to treatment,” she says. 

	Some of these colorful artisanal gems have traveled as far away as Hawaii, and others into the hands of such well-known survivors as Robin Roberts from 

and Indianapolis Colts Head Coach Chuck Pagano. 

	“I thought, ‘I need something for my kids to remember me by,’” Tonry says. “I needed them to know Mom did something important. I wanted to leave them with that.” 

	Like Tonry, other survivors of cancer may feel compelled to change careers. But not everyone will have her certainty about how to do it. 

	“They may have no idea how to actually change careers, or they’re not sure what their new career could be,” Jansen says. “There may be a need for additional education, which costs money, or it feels daunting or there’s a need to earn money as soon as possible. They also may not be ready physically, mentally or psychologically to do what it takes.” 

	To prepare for a career change, Jansen recommends a three-pronged approach. 

After starting with an evaluation of their core values, job seekers should next examine their self-confidence, knowledge, motivation, work relationships, goals, skills and interests. If it’s clear that a current occupation is incapable of living up to those priorities and values, then it’s time to move on. 

Geography, experience and education levels, supply and demand, time consumption and economic realities can take on the roles of either pitfalls or positives. Weigh these factors carefully before taking the plunge into a particular industry or direction. 

Do the research, chat with seasoned professionals in a would-be field and troll the Internet for facts, blogs and other insider information. Most importantly, put it to paper, because writing down goals serves as both a reminder and the spark of motivation. 

	“It takes a minimum of six months to find a new job,” Jansen says. “You should first focus on the fundamentals: LinkedIn, networking and updating your resumé — and these don’t require a huge commitment.” 

	Something that does not necessarily need to be a focus, however, is cancer. Unless applicants will require special accommodations due to health issues, she says, they should not share a past cancer diagnosis with a prospective employer. 

	“I just recommend that (they don’t mention the cancer) if they are sure they are looking for full-time work (and) sure that they can handle the physical, emotional and psychological challenges,” she says. 

	All that said, Jansen adds, “Just don’t let any perceived limitations get in your way. If you’ve done your homework, if you have the skills, don’t let time, money, age, education, experience or obstacles get in your way. Don’t doubt yourself. With a positive attitude, you’ll make it happen. It will happen if you persist.” 

	While cancer can have obvious repercussions for the careers of patients and survivors, it’s also difficult to deny the ripple effect it has on family, friends and caregivers. An experience with a loved one’s cancer can push a caregiver to change careers, too — and to grapple with a different set of issues along the way. 

, some survivors find they are driven to follow a passion, seeking new careers that are meaningful and fulfilling.

 can be difficult, but there are strategies that can help, such as conducting a self-assessment of skills, interests and the job market, writing an action plan and refusing to let perceived limitations get in the way.

	It was an impromptu trip to a Duluth, Minn. hospital 13 years ago that steered caregiver Peter Kebbekus toward his unconventional ascent into medicine. 

	“My wife went to the emergency room for what she thought was an infection in her hip,” Kebbekus says of his once marathon-addicted better half, Annette. “Well, her white blood count wasn’t just up; it was 50 times the normal level.” 

	Within hours, doctors revealed the raw hand fate had dealt: acute myeloid leukemia. 

	“When it’s a bad diagnosis, even through the treatments and moving forward, you need to be cognizant of the numbers,” Kebbekus says. “There was a 50 percent chance she’d be alive in five years. We knew it was pretty dire.” 

	Four cycles of chemotherapy would prove fruitless for the 36-year-old, who seemed to have all the statistical cards stacked in her favor: tumor genetics, age and health. Despite those advantages and her valiant efforts, Annette succumbed to the disease in March 2003, leaving Kebbekus to rear their two children, ages 1 and 4. 

	While the journey was wrought with challenges, Annette’s harrowing battle with cancer ultimately drove Kebbekus, a then 36-year-old biochemistry professor, to enroll in medical school. 

	“I always thought maybe I’d go,” he says. “We talked about it when she was sick and things were not going well. I told her I still had that itch. I wouldn’t have done it if Annette had recovered, and if she had never been sick, it’s also something I wouldn’t have done.” 

	Much like surviving cancer, experts say that the death of a loved one underscores life’s fleeting nature, forcing family and friends to rethink their own priorities. 

	“People living with trauma, it does give them perspective, and sometimes they are fortunate enough to switch careers and become more productive human beings,” Jansen says. 

	As she suggests, Kebbekus found in his wife’s passing the motivation to take a chance and to discover more rewarding opportunities. The next four years were punctuated by helping hands, lengthy study sessions, endless medical rotations and mounting student debt. 

	“I can tell you what it was like to be a 41-year-old intern, showing up and hearing other staff members complain about 10 hours, and I’m here for 30,” he says. “It was not easy to be awake and functioning, and it took a lot of coffee and a lot of camaraderie to get through it. But I can’t imagine doing anything different.” 

	Naturally, pushback came from family members, who worried about the time Kebbekus spent away from his children. 

	“I don’t think anyone is second-guessing now,” he says. 

	Finding family support during a career change after cancer can come with its share of difficulties, Jansen points out. 

	“Families sometimes can be opposed to doing something different and may not understand,” she says. “Friends are different. Supportive friends are more forgiving.” 

	But perseverance through those issues can lead to career changes that work out well. 

	That was the case for Kebbekus, who came full circle during the later stages of his schooling when he settled on a specialty in oncology. Now working at Essentia Health in Duluth, he believes it was that darkest period in his life that brings out the best in him as a physician. 

	“I watched the person I loved most in the world waste away and die,” he says. “When I talk to a patient, I can be up-front and honest. I can also give them hope. I’m not sure anyone is born with that kind of empathy.” 

PETER KEBBEKUS, pictured with his children ANNA and JOSEPH, was inspired to become an oncologist after his wife, ANNETTE, died of leukemia.

For some, working after cancer means switching careers to pursue a passion.

Maria Prato

A Touch of Healing: Massage Can Alleviate Symptoms of Cancer, Treatments

Working Wonders: Changing Careers After Cancer

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