As a 16-year breast cancer survivor, I have celebrated my “birthday” each year on April 18. It’s the day I had my radical double mastectomy. That was, after all, the day my cancer was removed. My husband threw me a small party for the first 10 years on April 18. I organized annual celebrations at work on that date, giving colleagues the opportunity to celebrate and remember those they love who have had cancer. I enjoyed saying things like “I’m three years old,” celebrating the increase in age each year.

As time has gone by, however, I have started to wonder if I should change my cancer birthday. My cancer experience is framed within a litany of dates which represent beginnings and endings of diagnosis, surgeries, chemo, Herceptin, radiation and reconstruction. How do I decide which of these dates and events is most significant to celebrate as a birthday? Which is the most pivotal? While each date and event is seared into my identity, I feel the need to choose one as a marker of my experience.

People have been kind and generous throughout these 16 years. I am asked on a regular basis about my cancer survivor date, and I tell them April 18. They seem happy to know that there is a specific date when they can send me a card or wish me well. It feels like this date should be celebratory — a date when I can share with others, and they can share their own or their loved ones’ memories with me in joy and hope for the future. For public sharing, then, I am sticking with April 18.

However, I am coming to realize that my life changed on the day that I learned I had cancer: March 3, 2008. I am a survivor of cancer — of all that goes with cancer — not just a survivor of a surgery. Being diagnosed with cancer began a one-and-a-half-year whirlwind of appointments, treatments, exhaustion and incredible thankfulness to family, friends and the amazing doctors, nurses, tech support and scientists who provided life-saving treatment. I have favorite nurses, doctors and treatment groups, as well as several least-favorite treatments. With more years of experience, I have tried to be an advocate, or at least a support, for others going through cancer. Are all of these memories a result of any particular date of surgery, or date of treatment? I think the answer is only partially. More often lately, I have tied these more specifically to my date of diagnosis. I just can’t get March 3 out of my thoughts. That is when I began to survive cancer.

When is my cancer birthday? I have come to realize that surviving cancer is not based on a single date but is rather an ongoing mix of joy and sorrow, of private and public celebration of hopes and fears. I will have one date (March 3) for my own reflection on how my life changed the moment I received my diagnosis. I will have a second date (April 18) for celebration with family, colleagues, and friends. It's not such a bad idea to have two cancer birthdays!

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

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More often lately, I have tied these more specifically to my date of diagnosis. I just can’t get March 3 out of my thoughts. That is when I began to survive cancer.

When Is My Cancer Birthday?

Jana Noel

It is a great honor to nominate Linda Giamalva, B.S.N., RN-BC, NC IV, for the Extraordinary Healer Award for Oncology Nursing. Linda has been a nurse for about 15 years.


In 2011, Linda and her oncology colleagues created a nonprofit organization called Hannigan’s Heroes in honor of Dr. Edward Hannigan, who was a beloved gynecological oncologist at The University of Texas Medical Branch (UTMB). Linda wanted his name and reputation to continue to help patients with cancer. Hannigan’s Heroes raises money to help patients with expenses that are not covered by insurance or for patients who do not have insurance.

Hannigan’s Heroes hosts an annual event to raise funds for patients with cancer. Linda organizes and oversees all fundraising, funds and distributions. Linda also volunteers year-round to promote breast cancer awareness at UTMB.

Linda provides excellent care to all her patients and goes above and beyond to meet their needs. Each Christmas, Linda organizes Christmas stockings for all patients and their families. The stockings contain a mixture of items such as personal care items, peppermints for nausea, blankets and items to pass the time while hospitalized.

I have seen Linda plan birthday parties for patients, a wedding for a young patient on the unit and the last Christmas for a family. A young man received a diagnosis of lymphoma. He was planning to get married that year. Because of the constraints of his treatments and financial concerns, the couple canceled their wedding. Linda and the other nurses helped the couple plan a wedding on the unit. Linda’s extraordinary compassion is palpable!

She also planned a Christmas party for a patient who had three young children and could not afford to give them a Christmas because he was hospitalized for months for cancer treatment. Linda organized a Christmas dinner and party with gifts for the children and his wife.

Linda is a blessing to all her patients and the nurses who know her, and she is very deserving of this prestigious award.

Linda Giamalva, B.S.N., RN-BC, NC IV, provides excellent care to all her patients and goes above and beyond to meet their needs.

An Oncology Nurse Who Provides for Others

Allegra Jones, M.S.N., RN, CA-SANE

A treatment combination of Imjudo (tremelimumab) and Imfinzi (durvalumab) demonstrated improved survival outcomes, including disease control and treatment responses in patients with unresectable (surgically unremovable) hepatocellular carcinoma (liver cancer), according to a presentation at the 

The presentation highlighted updated five-year data from the phase 3 HIMALAYA study. These results set new standards in unresectable liver cancer, with one in 5 patients alive at five years, Dr. Lorenza Rimassa said in the presentation. 

Rimassa is an associate professor of medical oncology at Humanitas University and head of the Hepatopancreatobiliary Oncology Department at Istituto di Ricovero e Cura a Carattere Scientifico Maugeri Humanitas Research Hospital in Milan, Italy.

“This five-year updated analysis of the HIMALAYA study presents the longest follow-up to date in phase 3 studies for [unresectable liver cancer],” Rimassa said. “[Imjudo plus Imfinzi] sustained an overall survival (OS; time patients live, regardless of disease status) benefit versus [Nexavar (Nexavar)] and demonstrated unprecedented long-term survival benefit at five years, with a five-year survival rate of 19.6% for [Imjudo plus Imfinzi] versus 9.4% for [Nexavar].”

Survival Benefits of Imjudo Plus Imfinzi Versus Nexavar in Unresectable Liver Cancer

A total of 1,171 patients were randomly assigned to three treatment groups. The Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group included 393 patients. There were 389 patients in the Imfinzi monotherapy group and patients 389 patients in the Nexavar group. In the study, 393 patients were treated with the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination and 389 patients received Nexavar.

Patients from the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group compared with Nexavar sustained an OS benefit. Specifically, the median OS was 16.43 months in the combination group and 13.77 in the Nexavar group. The median follow-up duration was 62.49 versus 59.86 months, respectively.

For patients experiencing disease control, the OS was enhanced, showing rates of 28.7% in the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group and 12.7% in the Nexavar group at five years and increasing over time. There were 12 patients (3.1%) in the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group who achieved complete response (disappearance of cancer) versus no patients in the Nexavar group, and 67 patients (17.0%) experienced partial response (tumor shrinkage) versus 20 patients (5.1%), respectively. Stable disease was achieved by 157 (39.9%) in the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group and 216 patients (55.5%) in the Nexavar group, and 141 patients (35.9%) versus 118 (30.3%), respectively, experienced disease progression.

“More patients treated with [Imjudo-Imfinzi combination] versus Nexavar were still alive, still on study treatment, and fewer received a subsequent therapy at five years,” Rimassa noted.

Patients receiving the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination also experienced deeper tumor responses, including over 50% shrinkage in 34 patients, which was associated with longer overall survival, compared with 12 patients receiving Nexavar. In addition, 80 patients in the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group versus 114 patients in the Nexavar group experienced minor responses of less than 30% tumor shrinkage; however, this also led to a long-term survival benefit for those receiving Imjudo-Imfinzi combination. In the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group, there were 168 patients who had no shrinkage or growth versus 169 patients in the Nexavar group.

Rimassa stated that there were no new serious treatment-related side effects after the primary analysis with a data cut-off on Aug. 27, 2023. At the five-year data cut-off of March 1, 2024, 17.5% of patients in the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group had experienced serious treatment-related side effects, which was the same percentage reported at the primary analysis. Similarly, for the Nexavar group, at the five-year analysis at the data cut-off, there were 9.9% of patients who experienced serious treatment-related side effects versus 9.4% at the primary data cut-off.

There were also 24.8% of patients in the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination group that had serious non-treatment-related side effects at the five-year data cut-off versus 23% at the primary data cut-off, and in the Nexavar group, there were 20.3% of patients experiencing serious non- treatment-related side effects versus 20.3%, respectively.

“Overall survival benefit with [the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination] was enhanced in patients who achieved disease control. Any degree of tumor shrinkage was linked to long-term survival, with those experiencing deep responses showing the greatest benefit. These findings indicate that conventional response measures such as complete response or partial response … may not fully capture the benefits of [the Imjudo-Imfinzi combination],” Rimassa concluded.

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In patients with unresectable liver cancer, treatment with Imjudo plus Imfinzi showed better survival outcomes compared with Nexavar.

Imjudo Plus Imfinzi Improve Survival Versus Nexavar in Liver Cancer

Morgan Bayer

“I have bad news.” First time I heard those words, my heart skipped a beat. The second time was more of a kick in the balls, a mix of disbelief and agony. When a doctor says, “you’ve got cancer,” you know your world won’t be the same again. I’d just been presented with lifetime membership to a club I never wanted to join.

I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in January 2019 and one of the first things my doctor told me is that it’s actually a “good cancer” because if discovered early, it’s highly treatable. While there are far worse types of cancer, it still felt like my body had betrayed me. I was 63, which my doctors called young, ate well, exercised and didn’t drink or smoke. Cancer? WTF!

In April, I underwent a radical prostatectomy at the UCSF Medical Center. Tests showed the cancer had been confined to the capsule, so I assumed my treatment was done. But in April 2021, a routine PSA blood test showed evidence of a recurrence. I wasn’t told at the time of surgery that a third of men with prostate cancer will need salvage radiation therapy later on.

We did a PSMA PET scan to try to pinpoint to help locate the cancer cells, but nothing showed up. Given my options of doing nothing, while monitoring my PSA levels or immediately starting hormone therapy and radiation treatment, I hesitated. Going through forced man-opause and radiating my body without knowing the exact location of the cancer didn’t make sense.

Meanwhile, I discussed nutrition, supplements, exercise, acupuncture and meditation with my integrative oncologist. I tried all kinds of holistic modalities such as energy work, sound healing and CBD. But even though my PSA level was low, and we still couldn’t see the cancer on the scans, I was running out of time and needed to make a decision, rather than risk the cancer spreading to my bones or organs.

Eventually, I realized the most judicious move was to combine the best of modern and traditional therapies. But I also wanted to be an active participant in the process. Preparing for six months of conventional treatment, I did a web search on mind-body medicine and cancer and found a clinical hypnotherapist and cancer and trauma recovery specialist.

Over three days of intensive one-on-one sessions, we pushed through my defenses and long-held beliefs that I brought to cancer treatment. I discovered while my medical team was treating my physical body, it was my job to take care of the person within my body. That meant taking ownership and responsibility for how I think and feel

 Rather than falling down a rabbit hole of victimhood, helplessness and hopelessness, I needed to envision the best scenarios and results in every stage of treatment.

I followed up with my coach’s eight-week online course, which was more goal-oriented and result driven with practical tools such as writing exercises (including daily gratitude journaling), self-hypnosis, and meditations for surgery, chemo or radiation treatments. Neuroscientists are studying how cognitive thought affects nerve cells and tumors, and research has shown that going into any medical procedure in the right state of mind will yield fewer complications, shorter hospital stays, faster recovery rate, even overall better outcomes.

Is my wholistic approach to cancer treatment working? I do have hot flashes, gained a little weight and my libido has gone on sabbatical. I also have body aches and radiation fatigue. But these are all temporary conditions, and I keep reminding myself the long-range forecast calls for clear skies.

Yes, there will be moments where life gets messy and the “why me?” sneaks in. After all, prostate cancer is the second leading cause of all cancer deaths. But I’ve learned that a serious illness can also have a silver lining, where it becomes a rite of passage, a matter of self-transformation. During this crisis, I’ve become more like the person I wished I could be. Cancer has humbled me, opened my heart and made me more human.

My goal isn’t to merely survive, it’s living with the energy and intention of thriving. In addition to ridding my body of these malignant cells, my deeper purpose is to feel more grateful, peaceful, joyful and loving. Daily doses of these elixirs are the strongest medicine in my cabinet.

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

I transformed my mindset to maximize healing before, during and after prostate cancer treatment. 

Thriving With Cancer

Paul Gilbert

On behalf of the Kidney Cancer Association (KCA), I am nominating Laura Wood, M.S.N., RN, OCN, for the Extraordinary Healer® Award. Because of her skill, dedication, boundless compassion and drive to improve the lives of those affected by kidney cancer, I can think of no one more deserving of this recognition.

Laura’s foundational act of advocacy was starting the KCA’s Nurse Advisory Board (NAB) in 2006. Among groups such as the KCA, it is customary to have a slate of medical professionals who serve an advisory capacity; likely these are doctors. But Laura made the keen and practical observation that patients with cancer would benefit from additional experts who interact with patients the most — their nurses. These are the people who walk beside them through their cancer journey, who are on call at midnight, who sort through reams of paperwork and help patients and families understand how to overcome what they faced.

Laura gathered a group of nurses with expertise in kidney cancer from around the country. These nurses, who represented many National Cancer Institute-designated cancer centers, provide patients and caregivers the best information and support. She has chaired the NAB (which eventually became the Clinical Advisory Board, or CAB) and also served on the KCA’s board of directors since then.

Through the CAB, Laura translated more than 35 years of kidney cancer knowledge into educational initiatives and resources that serve a global kidney cancer community beyond those directly under her expert care. She helped compile the basic kidney cancer information on the KCA website, developed a handbook for patients who recently received a diagnosis to use with their family and their care team, and helped plan the KCA’s Virtual Patient Symposium educational meetings, which are open to anyone who wants to learn about kidney cancer.

“Laura is an icon in (renal cell carcinoma) because of her knowledge and expertise in the field,” said Virginia Seery, M.S.N., RN, ANP-BC, of Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston and a fellow CAB member. “She has a keen ability to educate others about RCC and the rapidly changing treatment paradigm. Laura is my ‘go-to’ resource for difficult patient situations. In addition, her organizational skills are outstanding and she is able to clearly identify priorities for the CAB to work on.”

Laura has always been ahead of the curve in patient education, enthusiastically participating in our patient video library to answer common kidney cancer questions for people who learn better by watching and listening and pushing to make digital materials more user friendly. She understood the power of the patient experience as a tool for connection and education, jump-starting the KCA’s focus on bringing personal stories and voices to our blog and social media.

Laura also spearheaded the CAB’s expansion to include social workers, radiology experts and physician assistants so that anyone who turned to the KCA for support could benefit from a multidisciplinary group of expert support care providers.

In terms of expertise, hers is unmatched.

Dr. Ron Bukowski, a member of the KCA’s board of directors and a noted oncologist who worked with Laura for many years at the Cleveland Clinic Foundation (CCF) before his retirement, said:

“Laura was unquestionably the most capable and knowledgeable research nurse in our section of genitourinary oncology and experimental therapeutics in the CCF Taussig Cancer Center. She developed expertise in the care and treatment of renal cancer patients that was unrivaled. This was accompanied by a compassionate approach to patients and their families in an era when we were first developing effective therapy for these patients, including IL-2, interferon, sorafenib, (Sutent [sunitinib]) and (Inlyta [axitinib]).”

Many noted the extra measures Laura took to ensure patients under her care had all their possible needs met. 

In addition, Laura was heavily involved in research and had the vision and understanding to see that clinical trials were a critical path toward improved outcomes for patients with kidney cancer, taking extra pains to connect those dots for patients and families.

“Laura was the consummate professional and patient advocate. She routinely put in extra effort to get a patient on a clinical trial, to take care of patients on a trial, and generally to be the consistent contact for patients and their families,” said Dr. Brian Rini, a medical oncologist and member of the KCA’s medical steering committee who also worked with Laura in genitourinary oncology at CCF. “When Laura was involved in a patient’s care, everything went smoothly and both the physician/provider team and the patient and family knew that every detail would be accounted for. She was truly exceptional and extraordinary in her role.”

Most recently, I’ve been awed by Laura’s strength through great personal transitions and tragedy. Laura retired last year after a long and illustrious career as the renal cancer clinical research coordinator at CCF to be a better caregiver to an ailing family member. Then in November 2021, Laura’s eldest daughter died in a traffic accident.

Even so, Laura continues with great courage, never wavering in her commitment to her kidney cancer community. With her typical can-do spirit, here is part of a recent message she sent to me and her fellow CAB members as we began our plans for the year:

“We begin 2022 focusing on the future and beginning a new year of working together with the KCA team to improve the lives of those with kidney cancer and their loved ones.”

We — and all the patients and families the KCA serves — are very lucky that Laura continues steadfastly by our side in our shared mission to serve and empower patients and families affected by kidney cancer. Thank you for considering this truly extraordinary healer.

Laura Wood, M.S.N., RN, OCN, has "skill, dedication, boundless compassion and drive to improve the lives of those affected by kidney cancer."

Kidney Cancer Nurse Is an Icon in Her Field

Gretchen E. Vaughan

Christine Simonelli, BSN, RN, CCRC, OCN is amazing, and 250 words will never be enough to express my admiration.

: She goes out of her way to help providers. She sees every patient in her clinic, not just those who screen positive. She will tell you that there are many more questions that need to be asked, especially symptom management and social needs, as each patient with their disease and treatment is different. While she can work from home on Fridays, she often comes in to lend a hand. One nurse practitioner recently was very excited to learn that this nominee had come in to assist her in clinic. She exclaimed how excited she was to be working with her that she knows it was going to be a good Friday.

 This nominee is collaborating with me and leading a nursing research study (mixed-methods design) on the financial impact care imposes on hematology-oncology patients. She is passionate about this and looking to forward to analyzing data to improve care and resources. She is also a sought-out preceptor for new hires.

This nominee serves on the board of our Oncology Nursing Society chapter as membership chair. She is running again in our upcoming elections. Her passion for encouraging membership from local hospitals is indescribable. She has created welcome letters and reminder emails to renew. She is a great ambassador for oncology nursing, always smiling, lending a hand and putting her patients first.

I cannot think of anyone more deserving. Here is an exemplar Simonelli shared with me:

I remember meeting Mr. Z for the first time, a legally blind gentleman with such a positive outlook. He came alone to his new patient appointment a couple of years back, and I couldn’t fathom how he made his way into the building and all the way to our clinic without assistance. I remember guiding him up to check out, and the patient service representative telling me she would get him to his community transportation outside.

What I remember most about that day was coming home from work and placing him in my prayers. 

Please, God, don’t let this man’s disease ever become active and require treatment. 

Thankfully, we were able to watch him with surveillance labs quarterly for almost two years without therapy.

During that timeframe, he never brought anyone with him to his appointments and was not very forthcoming with details of his personal life other than that he lived alone and was very independent. What I feared most came to fruition this past year, with his disease becoming active and requiring initiation of treatment. I remember that day well, too. I remember the physician’s concern, pondering if we could place him on a study, as he was a young healthy patient that could potentially benefit from a novel treatment regimen.

(This) was very different from my initial concern of how we can even safely give this man therapy. So many questions ran through my head. How could he be accountable to take an oral oncolytic at home? What if he took the wrong pills? What if he got sick in the middle of the night? How would he be able to reach us or get to us? What if he had a fever? How would he even know he had a fever if he couldn’t read a thermometer? Who would be there to care for him? The questions were endless.

I felt very uncomfortable asking him direct questions as to potential caregivers, as it was clear that he really didn’t wish to involve anyone. Our social worker was wonderful and helped him to come to the realization that he was going to need the assistance of his family and how to discuss this with his family. The (clinical) trials office was consulted, and it was determined that the patient could be consented after the consent was verbally read to the patient and all questions answered to the patient’s satisfaction.

I couldn’t have been any happier with this as I knew there would be an extra layer of care built into his treatment plan. He would have even more eyes watching out for him. I was on a mission that day. I knew we had to succeed in making this a smooth transition from observation to treatment and that I needed to make certain not only did I have all of my questions answered, but that my patient did too.

I left work that day and spent the next few days searching the web for solutions, reaching out to local community resources and searching drugstores for pill dispensers that would benefit a patient that had not been previously on any medications. Thanks to Amazon Prime, by the time Monday arrived, we had a talking thermometer and three different pill dispensers.

Through research, I had found that Walgreens has a program for the visually impaired where “talking” pill caps are able to be placed on prescriptions free of charge. Each of his prescriptions was programed with alarms to remind him of when to take them and read the prescriptions directions to him with the push of a button. We spent time practicing using the thermometer as well as return demonstrations opening the pill bottles and listening to the label directions. Home health was consulted to do a home safety evaluation and set up medications. The clinical trial coordinator and I programmed our work telephone numbers into his iPhone so that he could call with voice control.

But the best part was coming into the clinic on the day he signed consent to find not one, but three older doting sisters by his side. Each one had a multitude of questions not only about the disease, the clinical trial, but how on Earth their brother had been coming to Moffitt by himself for over a year and a half without them even knowing he had been battling this on his own. It was amazing, each eager to assist! It made my heart happy that this man had more support than many and that everything was falling into place.

His road has not been without a few stumbles, but he has had much support to assist him through his journey. So many of Duffy’s Caring Factors (our nursing research theory) are being used in the care of Mr. Z not only by nursing, but by all staff that have been involved including the social worker, trial coordinators, home health and medical staff. This has been a joint effort where we have shown mutual problem solving, attentive reassurance, human respect, encouraging manner, basic human needs and appreciation of unique meanings.

An extraordinary oncology nurse guided cancer care for a man who was legally blind. 

Compassionate Advocate in Cancer Care

Tina M. Mason, PhD, APRN, AOCN, AOCNS, FCNS

It may be a child with a broken arm, a spouse with a knee replacement or a friend with a debilitating condition. It could be a neighbor with a mental illness, a family member with cancer or a war-injured veteran. It could be time-limited or an ongoing need. Regardless of the illness, injury or disease, caregiving needs are ubiquitous. Yes, it’s part of parenting, marriage and friendship – but it’s still caregiving. As Rosalynn Carter wrote over 25 years ago, if you haven’t been one before and you aren’t a caregiver now, you will be some time in the future.

By definition, a caregiver is any person helping another person to care for themselves. Such care is always physical and emotional but can be spiritual too. Caregivers can be health care professionals being paid to provide the care, those who are privately hired and everyone else doing so as a volunteer. Be it formal or informal, paid or unpaid, friend or family, to the young or elderly, caregiving is a service being given to someone in need. It is setting aside your needs to help another. Caregiving is kindness and compassion in action.

Being a caregiver can be challenging, time-consuming and fraught with frustration. While not every caregiving situation is the same, the number one recommendation by every organization providing guidance and support to caregivers is simply this: take care of yourself first.

The obvious reason for this advice is that if you don’t take care for yourself first, you won’t be at your best as a caregiver nor be able to sustain yourself in that role. Self-care is knowing your limitations and not exceeding them. It’s doing things you enjoy that rejuvenate yourself. And self-care is learning to do new things that make caregiving easier.

Here are a few more suggestions to increase caregiving success:

1) Be proactive. Anticipate needs and plan ahead.

2) Be patient. Don’t expect everything to go as smoothly or as quickly as you would like. Don’t allow frustration to cause contention.

3) Forgive yourself and the person receiving your care. Mistakes happen. Things are forgotten. Words are often spoken without thinking. Apologize if needed or forgive and go on.

4) Let go of anger. No caregiving relationship is improved by remaining angry. Learn to express these feelings when appropriate and with whom it is best to do so. Then move ahead.

5) Be a good listener. Pay attention to non-verbal cues. Look for the meaning of things not verbalized. Ask for clarification whenever needed.

6) Stay focused on the here and now. Give 100% of your attention to your duties. Set aside your issues and deal with them later – but deal with them.

7) Share the responsibilities. Get others involved. Learn to delegate. Lighten your load.

8) Attend a support group or join one online. It’s cathartic to express feelings and concerns with others. They can offer intuitive suggestions and understanding support.

9) Remember, asking for help is a strength, not a sign of weakness or failure. Don’t allow feeling overwhelmed to interfere with success in your role. Get help.

10) Be sure to care for yourself. Eat well. Get lots of rest. Exercise daily. Find and enjoy humorous things. Laugh a lot!

The following organizations provide caregiving information and resources:

AARP Family Caregiving – (877) 333-5885

Caregiver Action Network – (855) CARE-640

Family Caregiver Alliance – (800) 445-8106

The National Alliance for Caregiving – (202) 918-1013

National Volunteer Caregiving Network – (512) 582-2197

VA Caregiver Support Line – (855) 260-3274

In addition, there are many national organizations that are diagnosis-specific such as the American Cancer Society – (800) ACS-2345. They have information tailored to the caregiver of someone living with cancer.

November is National Family Caregivers Month. But one month of honoring those who provide loving attention and compassionate care to another is not enough. Most caregivers do not get the recognition their caregiving deserves. So, another suggestion to enhance being a caregiver is to acknowledge to yourself that you are valued as a caregiver and regardless of how little thanks or honor you are given, you know it is needed and appreciated by many. In other words, treat yourself lovingly the same way you care for another… and do it year-round.

A retired oncology social worker shares some helpful tips for being a supportive caregiver while also maintaining your own well-being. “Caregiving is compassion in action,” he writes.

10 Helpful Tips for Cancer Caregivers

Rick Siefke

I knew Jessica Kelley, M.S.N., B.A., RN, CNL, for months before I actually met her in person. As a mother fighting to get the best care for her daughter with fibrolamellar cancer, rarely have I met someone with my same passion and fight. Only difference was she was fighting with passion for her prospective patients like a mother fights for her own.

I can’t think of anyone more deserving of being honored in the oncology field than Jessica. She fought tirelessly to help weed through insurance and political red tape at another center to get Moriah, my daughter, the care she desperately needed at Rush in Chicago, Illinois. Once we were there, she kept helping with housing and any help we needed that was in her realm to provide. She even helped yet again to restore Moriah’s Medicaid after it was cancelled while she was still receiving treatment.

Patients with fibrolamellar cancer like Moriah fight hard every day. Their caregivers fight hard every day. And the reason I recommend Jessica for this honor is because she fights hard every day for patients while being a loving caring hard-working mom herself.

I can’t say enough about this incredible human.

Editor’s Note: This is an essay submitted by Moriah Moore for the 2021 Extraordinary Healer Award. 

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

As a hard-working mom and administrator, one nurse shows her passion and fight to get the best care for patients with fibrolamellar carcinoma.

Fighting Hard for Patients with Fibrolamellar Carcinoma

Moriah Moore

It’s been going on for a while now. It always follows the same routine.

Somehow, subconsciously, I just know it’s coming. I start to tense up and my sleep starts to suffer. The sleep I manage to get, I spend grinding my teeth.

When I’m awake, I’m just snapping at people or being irrational. Cancer does that to you. All that broken sleep ages you too. “Oh, you look tired.” “Yeah Karen, I haven’t slept in three weeks.”

It’s not actually ‘the cancer’ though. It’s the fear of it coming back.

I’ve been in remission for a year now, and I’m writing this a day before my next scan. It will be the 8th surveillance scan I’ve had since they last found any new disease.

To read more on how Jonathan Little was blindsided by his

When I was first diagnosed with penile cancer in 2019, it was all a bit of a whirlwind. By the time my staging was complete, I was told that I had stage 3, grade 3 cancer.

It had spread from the primary tumor in my penis to the next set of lymph nodes in my groin. After having nodes removed in my pelvis as a precaution too, I got the incredible news that there was no sign of disease. Or, that as some like to say ... that I was cancer-free.

Next, I went through a few weeks of chemoradiation to give me the best chance that cancer wouldn’t come back. It was tough, but I knew it was worth it.

It’s just great to be me again, while it lasts

The scans and the months go by, and in the gaps between, you grow in confidence. Things get back to normal, and the smile comes back to your face. You’re not a victim anymore.

Then, just as you’re thinking how great the world is, the call comes ... “Hello, your consultant has asked us to contact you about coming in for a scan. How is three weeks, this Thursday?”

Well, it’s terrible. I never want another scan in my life. But you know you have to. You know that speed is everything when it comes to cancer. The earlier you catch it, the better the chances of killing it.

But as soon as that appointment is made, the clock starts ticking. The little arguments start at home, lashing out at the people you love. The silly frustrations at the simplest tasks and being overcome with emotion about the supermarket being out of edamame beans. The dull aches in your sides and the pit of your stomach that mimic a tumor.

What if it’s come back? What if they didn’t find all the microscopic disease? What if the surgery wasn’t radical enough, or if the cancer took a detour and it’s growing further up my body? What happens then? It took less than three months to grow a tumor the size of a tennis ball in my groin. What if it’s in my liver or something? That’s the right side of my body.

Am I being irrational? Of course, I am. But cancer does that. It destroys your belief system, and what you think is normal. Simple logic becomes difficult to handle. Surely, I’d know if it had come back? I only ever ask myself the questions that I know I can’t answer.

The crazy thing is that I’m not scared of the treatment. I’m not bothered about operations, or spending time in a chair getting chemo. I’m not worried about the radiotherapy. The side effects are the worst part, but I can handle those too. I know what to expect.

But it’s the disruption that bothers me. My cancer puts everyone’s lives on hold, and everything has to revolve around me.

I’m supposed to be a parent, and a husband and a leader. People depend on me to be there, to be involved. More than anything, I really want to be there. I want to be me.

That’s why I hate scans, because I know that I’m only ever “I have some bad news”, from taking me away from the best job in the world.

You can read more about Jonathan Little’s cancer journey at

where he writes about treatment, recovery and the toll that cancer can take on mental health.

A penile cancer survivor recalls how he can become irrational and lash out at his loved ones during the days leading up to his next scans. His wish: To be normal again.

‘Scanxiety’ Can Make Cancer Survivors Irrational and Irritable

Jonathan Little

My breast cancer diagnosis arrived on the most romantic day of the calendar. Valentine’s Day came not with flowers and chocolates, hearts and love words, but with “It’s cancer.” I wrapped my arms around the coarse paper drape required for surgeon visits. I remember sitting numb, appreciative that everyone in the room was wearing a mask since it was during COVID-19, so they could not see my real expression. There was a segment of that meeting I could not remember after hearing my diagnosis. My heart went silent. My mind was absorbed by an ancient Latin hymn. The doctor’s eyes were questioning. I suppose he asked me a question I did not answer. Once the fog lifted and Latin words ceased to replicate as if a cure was found, I heard options and a timeline.

Ductal carcinoma, Stage 1. Excellent prognosis with surgery and radiation. Medication. Mark your calendar.

A partial mastectomy was successful. Daily radiation treatments were successful. I had cheerleaders with pink pom poms. I had loved ones that embraced me with care. I had stage 1 cancer and not stage 3 or 4. Yes! It would be easy, a breeze, a drop in the bucket. It would be over. No more cancer. No more worry. No more Latin words hidden in my milk ducts. I would win the prize.

I soon realized how wrong I was. The shadow of breast cancer is relentless. I had no idea how it would follow me, even with a good prognosis. And the shadow was a dichotomy. I hesitated to confide in anyone about this feeling. I was gripped by how fortunate I was and how others suffered so much more than I experienced. After all, I only lost one-third of one breast to surgery, not all or both breasts. I only needed radiation and not chemotherapy. It was only after a few friends shared their breast cancer experience with me that I understood no matter the differences, there were similarities in the complex feelings that surface once you are diagnosed and treated for breast cancer.

As time progressed and appointments with the surgeon, radiologist and oncologist were kept, I really thought that once the “cancer-free” diagnosis was presented, a true gift, I would be able to cross off each doctor. When I shared this with the radiologist, he said, “No Ma’am. We are your team. You will be on this team for at least five years.” I responded that no one asked me to be on this team. I do not want to be on a cancer team. I visualized the cheerleaders with the pink pompoms dancing their routine, cheering me on. Rah, rah, rah. It took me a while to appreciate my team, understand the unique contribution each doctor made, and embrace the process.

. The article reflects the views of Alcott and not of CURE®. This is also not supposed to be intended as medical advice.

After treatment for breast cancer ended, I was excited to move on, but the shadow of cancer continued following me.

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