Spring is upon us, and that means summer is just around the corner! It’ll soon be the season for shorts, tank tops, flip flops, 85-degree days and humidity where I live in Chicago. For the fortunate people who enjoy the warm weather, I envy you and wish that I, too, could enjoy it.

Pre-cancer, I loved summer, and you’d find me outside all the time. My husband and I are hikers, avid kayakers and we love enjoying the outdoors with our pups.

However, with my cancer-induced hot flashes, being outside in the hot weather is really just a hot mess. When I say hot, it's not attractive. It’s sweating, unable to cool down, drinking a ton of water and wishing I had an air conditioner attached to me permanently. It’s breathing a lot, panting like a dog, stopping for breaks, slathering sunscreen on every 15 minutes, staying out of the sun constantly for my radiated skin, and just thinking to myself, “Why do I even bother?”

The truth is that even all the complaining and my being a hot mess, it’s still do-able. I travel with lots of sunscreen, wide-brim hats to cover my face, long sleeve swimsuits and breathable hiking shirts, portable fans around my neck, cooling rags and sweat rags. My hot flashes still occur in hot weather, and they can get bad, but being on Effexor (venlafaxine), a medication that helps with hot flashes, has really helped some of the extreme ones.

My hot flashes are caused by my ovaries being removed because my cancer fed on estrogen. Alcohol makes them even worse for me, so I avoid drinking a lot of the time. I sleep with fans, and wear layers constantly so I can adjust my own temperature easily.

My hot flashes won't ever end, but I want to be able to live with them and still enjoy the outdoors during hotter months.

Cancer has taught me so much about listening to my body, and if I feel overheated, I can’t ignore it like I used to. This new life with cancer is learning how to live, adapt and continue surviving with all the other warriors.

I hope to do so with grace, grit and gratitude.

For more news on cancer updates, research and education, don’t forget to 

I used to love spending time outdoors during the warm weather, but when I started getting hot flashes after my cancer-related oophorectomy, enjoying hot days got a bit trickier.

Hot Weather, Hot Flashes, Hot Mess: Dealing With Cancer-Related Hot Flashes in the Summer Months 

Liz McSpadden

results delivered by cell phone at least I had seen the man’s face tabled

for him so he could probe my breast extract clues to my future a mermaid

laid on her side [sophomore biology lab: excised heart reposed on newsprint awaits

dissection our tool a single-edge razor pungent smell of ewe’s blood caught

in my nostrils sponge of muscle under fingertips slight resistance to the blade]

at the end of the procedure he had not offered hopeI sought

in his eyes what he knew later his wireless voice intoned: 

reassured the fissure exposed bedrock but I could see the rest of days 

girdled not knowing not knowing not knowing unfelt

precision titanium clip marks the spot no other purpose[unlike those

surgical stainless-steel pins my father kept on the wooden shelf next

to the kitchen’s princess phone]call complete I tranced to your study to disclose

our shared evanescence your rock-‘n-roll-era’s ears asked: 

I laughed how lovely indeed to leave all the questions unanswered

into the dimmed room where you restedI stood witness beam

aimed first at your brain then at your lung ou had put on your best necklace

but there you were in a too-small gown exposed stung

now I am splayed on the table tunic oversized a smaller more targeted stream

[they tell me] no bystanders and I wonder did you feel equally as lonely cling

to facts like pearls [i.e. the exact location of cactus branching in my breast]

we did not speak about style and size of your tumor a flowering vine

of nasturtium you did not whine but smiled when you found

me in the reception room [we pretended you needed a driver

clutching that ruse like a scepter] and when you were freed I declined

to speak to the other patient back for more hair just duck-down

under her turban [your favorite choker now safe with my sister]

on my last day of treatment ready to consume the relief of conclusion

two returnees burned and bruised applaud a glacier ablates my illusion

Mid-May morning dog-walk and in that dazzle that comes just at the rise of the sun

over the Picuris you notice your shadow has lost weight over the winter [a consequence

unmentioned by the makers of cancer medication] you play with the silhouette spreading

your hands your fingertips talons wool cap a tight construction no halo can penetrate

And you think about that border between the good a drug can do and its side effect show

at that edge things are weighed [big horned sheep at a cliff with a dog behind] and

someone [usually not you] makes a decision needing your assent in order to proceed

nudging you toward what they believe is best [“Patient was informed…”]

So many boundaries like this subjectively drawn between X and Y then given

names like “beauty” and “evil” and you realize you’d prefer to dwell with colors

But rather than ponder when [precisely] the indigo of a rainbow becomes violet instead

you consider when a stamp becomes a tax or a gleam in the eye becomes a baby or a golem becomes a destroyer or a migration becomes a flight or fear becomes love or a border

a wall so many transformations on the path from birth to death You wonder

if this new thinner shadow could possibly squeeze through those steel uprights

at the border [are you there?]And you wonder about the canyon between yourself

and death splitting the distance in half and then in half again and then again and again

a limitless number of slices of pie [the infinite contained in the finite] a blue moon barrier

between you and that bright line the end containing the beginning containing the end

As I poet, I process my life experiences and thinking through the writing of poetry, and so when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in July 2022, I of course turned to my art. I find writing poetry helps me to look at any dilemma sideways, while examining the complexities. My purpose in sharing these poems is to help the people reading them to feel less alone in the human condition.

This post was written and submitted by Charlie Kalogeros-Chattan. The article reflects the views of Kalogeros-Chattan and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

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When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in July 2022, I of course turned to my art.

Find Me Now a Safe Place from Cancer

Charlie Kalogeros-Chattan

Althought it is sometimes overlooked, nutrition is a pivotal factor in a patient’s medical plan. 

Receiving adequate nutrition before, during and after treatment can help with side effects, quality of life, strength, fatigue, healing, treatment toxicities and so much more. 

Depending on the cancer diagnosis and treatment plan, nutrition recommendations may change. Common symptoms of multiple myeloma may directly affect nutrition, both before diagnosis and after.

Approximately one in three people with cancer has high calcium levels, known as hypercalcemia. High calcium levels are common in patients with multiple myeloma. The high levels usually are not due to consuming large amounts of milk or calcium-rich foods but instead are the effect of the cancer on the bone. If the calcium level is high, a patient may be told to not consume a lot of dairy products. At the same time, it’s important to take in enough fluids to help the kidneys remove excess calcium from your body.

Multiple myeloma also may affect renal or kidney function. Kidney damage is common in patients with multiple myeloma, and it can lead to elevated potassium and/or phosphorus levels. Patients should communicate with their medical team to stay aware of potassium and phosphorus levels when their blood work is taken. 

If laboratory results show elevated levels, a patient may need to cut back on foods that are high in potassium and/or phosphorus. In the ingredients list, look for words such as "dicalcium phosphate," "disodium phosphate" and others to identify additives. 

Foods that are high in potassium include bananas, oranges, cantaloupe, apricots, prunes, raisins, dates, potatoes and avocados. Foods that are high in phosphorus include dark colas and dairy products such as milk, ice cream and pudding.

During treatments, a patient may experience a wide range of side effects that affect nutrition, such as nausea, constipation, loss of appetite, fatigue, weight loss and excessive thirst. These may affect daily life, but there are some ways to combat these.

Having nausea can greatly affect nutrition status. Identifying patterns may help to guide treatment, so patients should keep their medical team informed. For example, if a patient experiences nausea every night before treatment, it may be caused by anxiety, as opposed to nausea following treatment, which may be caused by the medication.

Constipation can also be a sign of high calcium level, along with dehydration, thirst, confusion and worsening of underlying bone pain — so this should be pointed out. Fiber, or roughage, can help prevent constipation, but that’s only part of the story. Eating high-fiber foods such as spinach, whole grains and beans can help with bulk, but adequate hydration is also vital. Consuming enough fluids helps move bulk throughout the body and rid the body of waste. Drinking warm fluids in the morning may help ease constipation. A patient should tell their medical team how often they have bowel movements, in case a bowel regimen is needed.

More often than not, the number on the scale does not tell the full story. If a patient gets fatigued during daily activities, such as opening a jar or walking to the mailbox, they may be showing signs of muscle wasting. Patients should tell their medical team if they feel they have lost muscle mass and/or have lost weight without trying. A registered dietitian can show how to add nutrient-dense foods to the diet and explain ways to rebuild or preserve muscle mass, such as strength training and adequate protein intake.

Neutropenia is a term used to describe low neutrophils, a type of white blood cell. Having neutropenia may increase the risk for infection. Because of this risk, a medical team may discuss specific diet guidelines to avoid harmful organisms from foods and beverages. Safe food handling is especially important if a patient is receiving chemotherapy or radiation, or has had a stem cell transplant.

Patients should bring a notebook to appointments. Their medical team may 

mention certain foods or beverages that need to be avoided with medication, such as grapefruit or green tea. They also may give instructions about taking medication on an empty stomach or with food. All of this information may feel overwhelming. It can help to bring a support partner for a second set of ears or to take notes. 

Nutrition should be part of a patient's treatment plan, and it should be tailored to their specific laboratory results, medications and condition. Ask to speak with a registered dietitian for guidance on how to best fuel the body. 

Maintaining a healthy diet during treatment may help combat side effects.

How a Nutritious Diet May Help During Myeloma Treatment

 RAYNA MCCANN, M.S., RDN, CSO, CDN

Promacta (eltrombopag) improved platelet counts in patients with low-risk myelodysplastic syndrome (MDS) and severe thrombocytopenia (a condition of low platelets), according to long-term findings from the phase 2 EQOL-MDS trial.

After a median follow-up of 25 weeks, 42.3% of patients treated with Promacta (112 patients) experienced a platelet response, meaning that they experienced an increase in the amounts of platelets, compared with 11.1% of those treated with placebo (57 patients). Of note, MDS can affect the production of platelets, which are blood components that help to form clots and stop bleeding.

Promacta yielded complete responses in 31 patients compared with none in the placebo arm. As of the data cutoff on March 3, 2022, 34% of responding patients in the Promacta arm remain in response; the corresponding figure in the placebo arm was 16.6%.

In total, 25.5% of responding patients lost their platelet response on Promacta. At the 60-month mark, 63.6% of patients were still alive and did not experience a relapse with thrombocytopenia. Clinically significant bleeding was less common with Promacta compared with placebo.

Platelet transfusion independence — meaning that patients did not need to rely on blood transfusions to support their platelet supply — was achieved in 54.3% of patients receiving Promacta, and 35.3% receiving placebo. The median duration of transfusion independence was 32 weeks and nine weeks, respectively.

MDS progression occurred in 8% vs 9% of patients in the Promacta and placebo arms, respectively, though the difference between the two groups was not found to be significant. Evolution to acute myeloid leukemia occurred in 9% vs 7% of patients, respectively, after a median time from treatment start of 13 weeks (range, 11-24) vs 34 weeks (range, 7-133).

“The occurrence of severe thrombocytopenia in patients with low-risk MDS still represents a challenging condition because of the important burden of related (side effects) and the lack of effective treatments. In most countries, only (platelet transfusions) are currently offered to prevent or treat bleeding in these patients. Despite this unmet clinical need, few investigational products have been tested,” the investigators wrote. “(Promacta) has an acceptable toxicity profile and is effective in raising and maintaining [platelet] count and reducing bleeding without any associated risk of MDS progression.”

Investigators enrolled a study population of 169 patients in the single-blind, randomized, controlled EQOL-MDS trial, 165 of whom were included in the modified intention-to-treat analysis after receiving at least a single dose of the study treatment. The most common MDS-related treatments were erythropoiesis-stimulating agents (16.0%), steroids (16.0%) and deferasirox (5.9%).

Across the total enrolled population, the median age was 72 years, and the median duration of MDS was 14 months. Most patients (61.5%) were male (61.5%) and had low-risk disease according to the revised International Prognostic Scoring System (59.2%). Most patients were platelet (69.2%) and red blood cell (72.8%) transfusion independent at baseline.

Patients received oral Promacta or a matched placebo at an initial dose of 50 mg once daily. The dosage was titrated in 50-mg increments every two weeks up to 300 mg to produce a complete platelet response, which was defined as a platelet count of at least 100 × 103/mm3 without bleeding.

The main goals of the study were the duration of platelet response and long-term safety. The difference in time to response, the frequency of platelet infusions during and after treatment, and the duration of transfusion independence were among the secondary end points.

Grade 3/4 (moderate to severe) side effects not related to the blood affected 50 patients treated with Promacta and 11 receiving placebo. A significant difference in nonhematologic side effects between the groups favored placebo. Permanent treatment discontinuation was necessary for 18 patients in the Promacta arm after a median time from baseline of 13 weeks due to severe liver toxicity or persistent grade 3/4 side effects. Both arms had similar incidences of grade 1/2 side effects.

“As expected, patients in the (Promacta) arm had a higher rate of nonhematologic side effects,” the investigators wrote. “Most grade 3/4 (side effects) occurred early during treatment, within the first 24 weeks, and were reversible upon drug discontinuation. However, no differences were reported between the two arms for deaths.”

Promacta tended to boost platelet counts in patients with low-risk MDS, and helped those patients be independent of transfusions, too. 

Promacta Improves Platelet Count, Transfusion Independence in MDS

Nicholas Wrigley

The battle began in 1997. My wife’s first skirmish with “C” was when she was in her 40s and received a diagnosis of breast cancer. Our reaction included, but was not limited to, shock, tears, depression, rage and fear.

With her diagnosis came surgery, chemo treatments, radiation and many follow up visits with good doctors.

Once these measures were completed, our regular visits were usually positive experiences from which we went home with good reports. Life went on with high school and college graduations for our kids. We jumped into this phase with many weekend trips to their college games and meets on quite a few weekends. They were our favorites because we saw them enjoying college life and we relaxed and went along for the ride.

We tried to “celebrate” after each good visit in ways that could fit our budget such as concerts and local travel adventures. Planning these respites was part of the fun.

When retirement came for us both, we felt we were home free. However, in 2015 as second diagnosis for breast cancer was given to us. More surgery was needed, but it was not quite as stunning as the earlier experience. Perhaps we were “seasoned” a bit. Still, tears, depression, rage and fear returned. Always fear…

Somehow we got through this second skirmish and being older and more financially stable, we planned cruises, bus tours to wonderful sites, family visits to our kids and grandkids and even a few family vacations where we all piled into a VRBO.

In other words, after every good report we made a plan to live life and enjoy the time extensions.

In 2017, routine blood work indicated a high white count and further testing proved a new type of cancer, chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL). This was not necessarily connected with the previous cancers, maybe just bad luck.

Initial treatments were not successful and proved very expensive, even with our good insurance. We actually considered “divorce” as an option. My wife would fall into a lower income bracket and the drug costs would be greatly lowered.

Fortunately, her numbers improved after three months of shock, depression rage and fear. Always fear….

The blood work will never be normal, but it is acceptable. A win for us.

Mixed in with all this were three melanomas. Two were not as serious and were removed surgically. The most recent was worrisome and required lymph node biopsies and a PET scan to determine if/where it might have spread.

It really caught us off guard and we had already scheduled a cruise. Our oncologist urged us to take the trip, perhaps as a stress relief before the PET scan and the possible bad news. The trip was somewhat hampered by shock, rage, depression and fear. Always fear…

As with all biopsies and scans, waiting for results is the worst, and this was just days before Christmas to boot.

Then we received the best Christmas present ever. The scan was clean and we will just have the regular three-month check up scheduled.

This war has continued over 25 years with a variety of highs and lows. My courageous wife has battled through it all and continues to go forward. She even swam and bowled in the Senior Olympics and won several medals.

A key for us has been trying to overcome the fear. When a good appointment issues another three month extension or reprieve, we jump on it. I have become less reluctant to participate in her planned adventures. Fear? Always….

However, life is still very enjoyable, even in our seventh decade. Plans are still made to live life between the appointments. We deal with one hurdle at a time.

As I compose this, she has already baked and decorated dozens of Christmas cookies to share with family and friends. I even suspect more dance lessons could be on the agenda.

Find things you want to do and try. Trips, community activities and family visits are available and enjoyable. Think outside the box. Thanking God becomes a more personal priority. Laughing at the silliest things is therapeutic. Live life fully between the appointments! There are only so many grains of sand in the hourglass. Don’t waste them.

If you are facing what I have described, remain optimistic. These diagnoses are no longer death sentences. Fear? Always…

The three-month intervals between appointments and check ups are your green light to live life to the fullest. Attitude is everything. We hope you are as fortunate as we have been.

This post was written and submitted by James

. The article reflects the views of James

and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

When cancer entered our life, fear was a constant. However, we tried to live as joyously as possible between check-ups. 

Living Life Between Cancer Appointments

James Danaher 

By the time I got home around half past five,

I flipped it straight back in a ponytail,

Well that's all right. It's fine with me,

'Cause I was running out of styles to choose.

This poem reflects the importance of a positive attitude during the side effects of hair loss during cancer treatment. I hope it makes you smile.

This post was written and submitted by Phillip Belfiori. The article reflects the views of Belfiori and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

Even though I lost my hair from cancer treatment, I didn't let that stop me from styling my hair with attitude.

Attitudes With Latitude About My Cancer

Phillip Belfiori

Our mission statement here at Ironwood is “Compassion Through Kindness.” Kathy Shine, B.S.N., RN, demonstrates this every day with the quality care she provides to our patients and how she treats staff members. She is also celebrating her 41st year of nursing and will celebrate her 20th year with Ironwood Cancer & Research Centers in November 2023.

Kathy is a faithful servant leader. In her time with Ironwood, she has worn many hats, including being a nurse manager at our busiest clinic. I admired Kathy’s leadership style so much that when she decided to step down from the nurse manager title a few years ago, I was motivated to step up to leadership myself. I wanted to be like her. She may have given up the title but is still a leader in our practice in every way at Ironwood.

She mentors and leads by example with how she treats others and the excellent care she provides patients. Kathy is uniquely able to stay calm in all situations, which ripples out to others when she is around. She is respectful, patient and kind to all. She often brings flowers and special treats to the nurse station, which puts smiles on the faces of others and helps brighten even the most stressful days.

When you walk into the infusion room, it is evident that Kathy’s passion is caring for our patients. She is often seen at a patient’s chairside, smiling, going beyond standard assessments, taking her time to get to know them and ask- ing about family and recent events. She truly listens to her patients and advocates for them when needed. Patients often compliment her on what a fantastic nurse she is.

She cares about her patients as a whole person, treating them with dignity and respect while always providing excellent care. An example of her compassion is the care she provided recently for a married couple who had a difficult time during cancer treatment. Kathy was always willing to stop what she was doing to listen and be a shoulder to cry on. The husband recently passed away, yet Kathy remains a positive light during a dark time for the patient’s wife and family.

Kathy deserves all these praises and more. She is a true pillar of our practice, the community, our patients and all the staff members. We greatly appreciate her expert skill and compassion.

Compassion Through Kindness in Cancer Care

Lori Shattuck, RN, OCN

There are moments in life that will stop you in your tracks. The kind of moments where you can’t breathe or move. For some that moment could be the birth of a child and for others it could be that moment when a man and woman lock eyes as they are about to become husband and wife.

For others, this life moment will affect you in ways you never saw coming. In this moment literally everything will move in slow motion and time will stand still because cancer chose my family.

Imagine for one moment being in a hospital where people are talking, doctors are yelling and you are being asked so many questions that your head is spinning, but in your world at that moment, everyone around you sounds like that teacher from the Charlie Brown movie, completely muffled and nothing is making sense. You know they are speaking to you, but with so much commotion going on, you are questioning what is unfolding right before your eyes.

The life you knew was about to be forever changed because your spouse has just died. Their pain and suffering are now over, but what about those of us who are left alone to pick up the pieces? Our real pain and suffering is about to begin. We have been abandoned. We are lost. We are angry. Broken.

As much as I wanted to emotionally unplug myself from the world and tried to shut people out, it was impossible. I was thrown into a new position and with that came a new title. I was now the sole provider for my family and a widow at the age of 42. This was an extremely scary position to be thrown into, and while I knew it was inevitable, I still could not fully wrap my head around it.

Cancer, why? Why would God, who was supposed to love us unconditionally, inflict pain and suffering on those we love?

Watching life leave a body is not for the faint hearted. It is downright scary, but scarier than that was the idea of having to move forward while my heart was breaking not just for myself, but more so for the three little boys who were trying to wrap their little heads around the fact that their father would not be coming home. I wanted answers.

When I reflect on these last five years, I realized God never directly answered my questions, but instead sent people and circumstances to heal my heart. From the dragonflies that swarm me during the summer months to one of my boys doing or saying something so eerily familiar (just like their father would have) it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The five-year anniversary of Scott’s death over this past summer was a tough one, not just for me, but the boys as well. I felt tempted to lay in bed most of that day, but soon realized how ridiculous that was. Three insanely crazy boys would not allow me to do that. Instead, we chose to celebrate Scott’s life and fully embraced the day simply by living.

There is no right or wrong when it comes to grief. Everyone deals with grief in their own way. Some cry, some get angry, some laugh uncontrollable because the pain is simply too much while others completely shut the world out. Trying to find a silver lining and put on a brave face has been extremely difficult.

Initially after Scott died, I grieved privately mainly because every time I broke down the boys couldn’t handle it. The shower was my best friend. I could cry until I had nothing left and if my eyes were red when I got out, that little white lie of getting shampoo in my eyes while I was washing my hair always worked like a charm. There were no late-night calls to friends or that dreaded breakdown at the funeral. Don’t get me wrong, I lost my composure at certain points, but those bigger moments happened behind closed doors privately.

Grieving is like the biggest roller coaster ride you have ever been on. That phrase “It will get better, just give it time,” was a joke. I was angry and resented those around me who kept telling me it would be OK. OK? Nothing about this was OK.

While year one is pretty much a blur, year two is a doozie. I now had to face the harsh reality that he was never coming back. The “year of firsts” was over. No more funeral arrangements, no more dinners, no more dodging telephone calls from friends and family to “check in” to see if I was OK. The numbness of year one had worn off, year two was now a harsh reality.

You know that saying “live life to its fullest”? I would ponder that phrase late at night when I couldn’t sleep and at times I thought, “what a bunch of crap.” How are you supposed to live life to its fullest when your entire world has come crashing down all around you?

Before becoming a widow, the only other widows/widowers I ever met had been the older adults — my grandparents’ generation mostly.

I have since changed the way I see things. Little things that use to drive me nuts no longer influence me. Dishes in the sink? Wash them later. Burnt dinner? Order out. Dead battery? Call AAA. We all know that we can’t take life for granted because tomorrow is never promised to any of us. We are all here on borrowed time. I have worked and focused on striving to live the best possible life each day.

Every day I can spend time with my boys is just another reminder of how much Scott has missed. Cancer robbed us. Some days are easier than others and I would be lying if I said they are all fabulous. I don’t always see unicorns and rainbows, but I try to not let insignificant and mundane issues dictate how I live my life. After all, life shouldn’t be that serious, should it?

This now brings me to the extremely interesting and daunting task of dating. Judge not! This is my journey and mine alone. This is not a journey that every widow/widower wants to take and ultimately it is up to us when or if we are going to take this next step and go down this road.

Three years, that’s how long it took for me to even think about putting myself back out there to meet someone new. I needed to make sure I was emotionally and mentally prepared for the possibility of welcoming someone new into my life.

The dating scene is so insanely different than it was 30 years ago. Dating apps? I couldn’t really wrap my head around this concept. Why couldn’t I just go out and meet someone like I had done years ago? Because dating is like a job interview and these dating apps make it just that.

At the beginning, I was completely confused. A lot of it was false advertisement if I am being honest. Men portraying themselves as these amazing individuals on paper and then upon meeting it was clear they were looking for one thing and one thing only. Sorry boys, not this woman. I say boys because a good nine times out of 10, that is exactly what I was dealing with: men who acted like children. I already have three young boys at home, and I certainly was not looking to take on anymore.

The date where I was told that I would never be able to find someone because I came with too much “baggage” might have been my all-time favorite. My children were baggage? What was happening in this world? Don’t get me wrong it was not all bad and I did meet some amazing individuals so please don’t be frighted by what I am saying. Putting yourself back out into the dating world can be downright scary, and you may find yourself even feeling guilty. This will come in waves, but do not let guilt cloud your judgment for be able to love and be loved again.

Let me be completely blunt, I hate this phrase. “Letting go” means you are starting to forget the life you had before. Coming from a widow, I am here to tell you that you never ever forget. Our memories are like a rolodex. These moments are filed away until something triggers us to go back into that rolodex, pull out the card and make us remember. We never forget, even when we wish we could.

We as humans are capable of some amazing things, like resilience and adaptability. As time passes, our brains learn to manage emotional pain and slowly but surely, we get a little more control of our memory. As we get further from our loss, the pain starts to ease up. What I have come to realize is that our loved ones are NOT disappearing as our pain diminishes, but rather we are learning to live with the memory of our loved one in a slightly different way. So, if you take anything away from reading this let it be the following: To let go, isn’t to forget, not to think about or ignore. It doesn’t leave feelings of anger, jealousy or regret. Letting go isn’t winning or losing. It isn’t about how you appear, or pride and it certainly is not obsessing or dwelling on the past.

Letting go isn’t blocking memories or thinking sad thoughts, and doesn’t leave emptiness, hurt or sadness. It isn’t giving in or giving up. Letting go is NOT about loss or defeat.

To truly let go is to cherish memories, overcome and move forward, but never moving on. It is having the courage to have an open mind and confidence in the future that awaits you on this new journey. It is accepting, learning and growing. It is having the courage to accept change, whether you are ready or not and having the strength to keep moving. It is about growing up and realizing that the heart really is the most potent remedy.

This post was written and submitted by Caroline Johnson. The article reflects the views of Caroline Johnson and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

Cancer robbed our family of more time with my husband. In the years since his death, this is what I’ve learned on grieving, life, dating and the fear of letting go. 

Life Lessons of a Young Cancer Widow

Caroline Johnson

There's no easy way to sum up how much Jessica Ellison, M.S.N., RN, BA, means to the patients she works with. From the first time meeting her, I felt like I had a new big sister, one who truly cares and isn't afraid to show tough love. She's persistent and more on top of her game than any nurse I've dealt with in the five years I've been fighting fibrolamellar hepatocellular carcinoma at six different facilities I've received treatment from. Every time I have to travel from my home in Louisiana to Rush University Medical Center in Chicago for procedures and surgeries, I know everything is in order, and if it's not, Jessica is going to fix it before I arrive. She should be a body builder with all the weight she lifts from her patients' shoulders.

You are an exceptional human being. You are the first line of defense for scared families who count on you to make it all come together so Dr. Kent/Dr. Schadde can do what they do best! Thank you for the dedication, persistence and, most importantly, always making yourself available! We are blessed to have you alongside us in this fight!

Jessica is the oncology nurse for Dr. Kent, Dr. Schadde and Dr. Hertle who in collaboration works with Dr. Kent's patients with fibrolamellar hepatocellular carcinoma. She is the one who balances the medical team and coordinates with those of us who have Rush University Medical Center as part of their Fibro Fighter's Team. Jessica demonstrates compassion for our fighters while at the same time managing physician and family needs, personalities and schedules. When working with Jessica toward whatever the next step is in my daughter Lacey's care, we know that we can absolutely count on her every step of the way. I believe she is an extraordinary healer in going for the cure of a rare cancer. While fibrolamellar carcinoma affects one in 5 million, to say Jessica (like our fighters) is one in a million would be an understatement. We credit her along with the Rush University Medical Center team in saving Lacey's life. She is gift to the lives she touches.

—Joy Funkhouser and Lacey White-Stahura

Editor’s Note: This is an essay submitted by Fibrolamellar Hepatocellular Community Members for the 2021 Extraordinary Healer Award. 

 to read more about CURE®’s Extraordinary Healer® Award for Oncology Nursing event on April 30, 2021.

Three different people describe similar experiences with someone who stands alongside them during their journeys.

Lifting Weight Off of Patients’ Shoulders

Sharon Ward

time to enjoy the country and each other.

We explored historic hill towns, each with

sharp streets, each clutching its history

dressed, climbing laboriously up a steep hill

toward a black Mercedes waiting at the top.

This was a different kind of trip. Nothing fancy.

Good food, quiet hotels and streets, outdoor

Shortly after Portugal, you began to fade

more quickly, taking our future with you,

leaving me to tend to my heart’s crevasse.

My husband had a 4-year journey with pancreatic cancer, and lots of severe chemo regimens, after which he would recoup and be ready to travel. This was our last amazing trip, truly a gift.

his will, years of suffering, his tenacity

After four years of the wait-and-watch routine for Follicular Lymphoma I had to begin treatment. I had hoped wait-and-watch

would last forever. I was pretty terrified after what I witnessed my husband go through.

This post was written and submitted by Lynn Belzer. The article reflects the views of Belzer and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

I reflected upon my last great trip with my husband and the moment my wait and watch approach ended for my follicular lymphoma.

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