I know it might feel this way right now, but you’re not alone.

I was forty-four when I was diagnosed with a rare, incurable cancer called adenoid cystic carcinoma (salivary gland cancer). The diagnosing doctor read the survival statistics to me from a website. “After five years, 80% of people are still alive. After ten years, it drops to 30%.”

Those statistics literally took my breath away. I was stunned. I was terrified. I didn’t know – really – what I should do. And I felt completely alone.

Who could I turn to? Who was going to help me? No one I knew, who was my age at least, had cancer. I didn’t know where I should be getting my information (the doctor was reading from a website on the internet?!?).

The medical professionals I was trying to see had long waiting lists, with some backed up for three months or more. It seemed surreal to be told I had cancer, but then be expected to wait in terror for my turn to be told how it might be treated (or not). I was reeling and felt like I had no one to help me navigate this life-altering news.

And then I got a second, totally unrelated cancer diagnosis. This one was called invasive ductal carcinoma or, as I would come to know it, breast cancer. Stage 3.

I was completely at a loss. The fear I felt was beyond anything I had ever experienced before. I tried to get my head around my diagnoses. And I was desperate to learn about my prognosis. I worried about the future, and perhaps more to the point, if I would have a future.

So, I turned to the library. I read every book I could find on why cancer happens, what treatments were available for my cancers, and what I might expect (side effects) from my cancer treatment plans. These books were written by doctors. I learned a lot about the science and physicality of cancer; what was happening to my body and why.

And while I appreciated what I learned from the doctors who wrote those books, I needed information that went beyond the physical. I needed someone who could talk with me about the emotional aspects of my cancer diagnosis. I needed someone to tell me it was okay that I was freaking out – or to tell me how to stop freaking out. I needed someone who knew the hacks for the side effects I might experience. What I needed was a guide. Or better yet, a guidebook…a “how-to” manual for cancer.

But I didn’t find one. So, I wrote one based upon what I learned. I tried to speak to the questions I had during my first days/weeks/months of understanding what it meant to be living with cancer.

I’d love to tell you that this book answers ALL of your potential questions about your cancer, but it won’t. I’ve had two cancers so I’m not a total novice, but the reality is that every cancer type is different (there are over 200 cancers out there!). And every person’s journey is unique. I’m not going to be able address every nuance of every cancer, or your particular circumstances. I’m just not. And I am truly sorry for that.

My goal with this book is to help you start to get your head around your diagnosis and provide you some guidance on your journey. It’s the stuff I would speak with you about if we met and had coffee (or, probably more appropriately, a cocktail or a whole bottle of wine) together. It is a high-level overview of cancer – a starting point on your journey.

I am so very sorry you are going through this. I know it must be hard. These pages are designed to help you better understand the issues and possible scenarios you will encounter as you begin mapping out plans to overcome this disease. I am not here to tell you how to “do” cancer, I am simply hopeful that this book makes your journey a little easier…

May you be happy
May you be healthy
May you be at peace

Sarah

Chapter 1: How Are You Doing? No, really.
Chapter 2: How Not to Lose Your Mind
Chapter 3: You Have Cancer. Now What?
Chapter 4: Get the Support You Need
Chapter 5: Be Your Own Best Advocate
Chapter 6: How to Speak About Your Cancer Diagnosis
Chapter 7: Scans and Tests
Chapter 8: Surgery
Chapter 9: Radiation
Chapter 10: Pain Management
Chapter 11: Chemotherapy
Chapter 12: Living with Cancer

• Drive with me to appointments
• Take notes during my appointments
• Deliver food to me (especially ice cream)
• Drop off/pick up my kids from school
• Take my kids for a sleepover
• Walk my dog
• Mow my lawn/weed my garden
• Clean my house/send a cleaning service in
• Do my laundry/send the laundry out to a service
• Take me out to a meal/museum/movie/sports event/shopping
• Get me a gift certificate for a massage or spa
• Send me flowers
• Send me books/magazines/music/movies (especially if they are funny)
• Create a “chemo care package” for me complete with warm socks, a hat, trashy magazines (People, not porn), adult coloring books; whatever would be distracting for a couple of hours while I sit in the infusion center.
• Take a walk with me and discuss cancer
• Take a walk with me and DON’T discuss cancer
• Sit with me/hold my hand/hug me