Children deserve open lines of truthful communication. Truthfulness is the best (and only!) way to establish and maintain a bond of trust with anyone, but especially with children. Discussing illness honestly and openly will teach children that parents are trustworthy and that honesty is a core family value.

As much as I wish that my experience only happened to me and that I could have shielded my husband and children from the pain, the reality is that cancer happens within the ecosystem of family, friends, and community. It just does. The Silver Lining is that there are indeed tools to help parents talk with children.

Here are some practical suggestions for how and when to talk with children:

• Talk with them at the time of the diagnosis.
• Talk frequently and briefly, letting their questions guide you.
• Base conversation on the child’s age and sense of understanding.
• Begin with the basics.
• Practice what you are going to say.
• Consider having another adult present.
• Use clear, specific words that the child can understand.
• Be honest. If you don’t know the answer, say so, but reassure them you’ll find out.
• Look for clues they may be confused, angry, sad, or withdrawn.
• Get support. Inform your child’s teachers/counselors/coaches.

When talking with children, it is helpful to become familiar with the typical beliefs that children hold about a cancer diagnosis and how to respond to these beliefs.

• Children often feel guilty (often silently) because they think they caused cancer in the family — by misbehaving, thinking angry thoughts, etc.
  • Reassure them that no one is to blame for the cancer.
• Cancer isn’t contagious, but children may think it is.
  • Let them know that this isn’t an illness like a cold or the flu, and that it is NOT contagious.
• When a parent is ill, children may feel worried about being alone and abandoned.
  • They need to know that they will always be taken care of. Identify the person who will take care of them when you are unable.
• Children may equate cancer with death, even if the prognosis is good.
  • Be honest about what you know. Do not make false promises, but stress that doctors and nurses will do everything they can to get rid of the cancer.

While we cannot protect all of the world’s children from the big and little “lumps” (pun intended) of life, the manner in which the experience is handled lays the foundation for how children will handle the inevitable future “lumps” in the road.

The Silver Lining is that children are wonderfully resilient and can survive a family’s cancer diagnosis, treatment, and recovery. My husband and I had two choices about how we were going to handle this wretched diagnosis: from a position of fear or from one of love, from a place of denial or truth. We chose love and truth. As a result, our children mirrored our words, actions, and emotions. It was emotional. It was honest. It was hard, but we were all in it together.

A potential risk factor for breast cancer is exposure to environmental estrogens. Environmental estrogens are any of a group of synthetic substances found in the environment that, when absorbed into a person’s system, function in a similar way to estrogen. Estrogen stimulates breast cell growth, and exposure to estrogen over long periods of time, without any breaks, can increase the risk of breast cancer. Whether environmental estrogens can fuel the growth of breast cancer is still being studied. But if there was a 10% chance that your plane had a significant mechanical problem, would you get on the flight?

The following are five simple ways (there are others) to avoid exposure to environmental estrogens:

• Avoid pesticides containing DDT and dieldrin (look at the labels), and advocate for your schools and community to do the same.

• Avoid cooking with nonstick cookware: the perfluorooctanoic acid (PFOA) used to make products grease- and waterproof is an environmental estrogen. When the cookware is heated, PFOA can seep into your food.

• Avoid using plastic food containers, which may contain bisphenol A. Never heat plastic containers or use plastic wraps in the microwave — heating plastic causes the leaching of the environmental estrogens into your food.

• Avoid cosmetics or personal care products containing phthalates. Because phthalates are mainly used for fragrances, and often not required to be listed on product ingredients, using fragrance-free personal products would limit exposure. Although there is no direct link of phthalates to cancer or other health issues, the European Union took the proactive step of issuing a directive banning certain phthalates in cosmetics sold in Europe in 2004.

• Recycle old electronics, including cell phones, hard drives, TVs and computer monitors, and batteries. The breakdown of the cadmium, nickel, and lead in these products form environmental estrogens that can seep into our soil and water supply.

How important is paying attention to environmental factors? A major study commissioned by Congress released in February 2013 concluded that “Primary prevention of new breast cancer cases requires identifying and reducing exposures that increase the risk of the disease, and fostering behaviors that may help to prevent it.”

The surest steps to reducing our risk of breast cancer are well established: maintain a healthy weight, exercise, eat nutritious food, avoid alcohol, and don’t smoke. Visit the Lower Your Risk section for more information on these risk-reduction steps. By making relatively simple behavior changes and avoiding environmental estrogens, we can multitask (every mother’s forte) and create a healthier planet and healthier mothers, sisters, aunts, cousins, and friends, so that future generations of mothers and children can enjoy the beauty of spring for many years to come.

The practice of yoga is intensely personal. It requires a willingness to be vulnerable – to be honest and to trust. It requires a safe place. It requires a safe place inside of yourself. You start there and you slowly begin to move out to your periphery, where things may not be so comfortable.

I teach yoga while living as an expat in Geneva, Switzerland. I see it as a way to bring people together – to form a community that is inclusive and positive, where we can move our bodies, breathe, share, and laugh together.

One of the first places I was able to feel safe during my cancer treatment 10 years ago was in yoga class. It was so much more than just a place for me to regain strength after surgery and during chemo. The intention of actually connecting to my body in a meaningful way connected me to my life and the experience I was having on a very spiritual level. I was able to find that small, vulnerable, and safe place inside of myself – and I started there. In that place I did not feel alone – and as I began to feel more connected to everyone and everything around me, so did that place begin to feel bigger and safer. Moving to a new country, I again found myself feeling vulnerable and seeking that safe place inside of myself. By creating an environment for others, I was actually mirroring what I myself needed.

Teach what you know.

There is a beautiful woman who comes to my classes. She began yoga with me shortly after her mastectomy and has traveled the journey of her chemo on her yoga mat. She just started on tamoxifen. She is a little scared. But she is also strong and passionate and positive and has the most beautiful sparkle in her eyes when she makes a joke. Every month, each week, each day has been different for her – but she keeps coming to class and in her honesty and vulnerability she is the most present person in the room. She knows exactly who she is and what she is capable of each day, and she has to sometimes accept that one week she may not be as strong or flexible as the week before. In truth, by virtue of her spirit, she is the strongest and most flexible lady in the room!

She and my other students with cancer or a chronic illness have expressed to me their deep gratitude for the yoga practice. They tell me that the asanas help them to feel more flexible after surgery; that they feel stronger and more empowered. The breath work and meditation helps them to feel calmer and more grounded. The philosophy inspires them to see deeper into their hearts and connect with their spirits. The beauty of yoga is that it invites everyone and anyone to start where they are and be present for themselves in this place.

Start where you are.

I know how to verbally guide someone through a series of movements – how to give cues, how to remind someone where they are in space – so that maybe they can connect to where they are emotionally in their body. I know how to smile and look into someone’s eyes and heart and say, “I understand. You are not alone. You are beautiful and strong and brave and amazing.”

It doesn’t matter if you have cancer, are going through a divorce, have just lost a parent, have a child struggling at school, or are trying to adjust to life in a new country. There is something about each of you and the challenges you face that opens you up and makes you vulnerable – and in that place, we make a connection. I have learned more from my cancer and more from my students than I will ever be able to share as a teacher. What has this journey through cancer taught you? How has it made you more aware of the beautiful gifts you possess to offer to the world?

Start where you are. Every day, every hour, every minute will be new – different. Embrace your life. Wrap your arms around that safe place inside of yourself and breathe.

Close your eyes. Listen to your breath. Become so quiet that you can hear your heart beating. Go into that safe place. Let it grow. Observe yourself – your thoughts, your reactions to your thoughts. Know that you are so much more than these words and emotions. Know that you are a true warrior. Know that you are an authentic teacher just by virtue of being alive and sharing this amazing human experience.

Start where you are. Teach what you know.

What if you have cancer and don’t have significant support? That’s a question that has troubled me since my diagnosis. How do you create support? How do you support yourself?

One method I used to support myself during treatment for breast cancer — and that others might find helpful too — is meditation.

Before you stop reading NOW, give me 30 seconds of your time — before learning more about meditation I would have been skeptical, too. But last year, when in the throes of treatment, and when I would have grabbed any lifeline for help, my physical therapist suggested I try meditation to deal with the stress of cancer.

Stay with me here. Close your eyes and focus on your breath for 30 seconds, observing its rhythm. If you find yourself losing focus on your breath and following your thoughts, observe where your mind went, without judging, and simply return to your breathing. Remember not to be hard on yourself if this happens. Just. Focus. On. Your. Breath.

Feel a sense of calm? It can really work. Why?

For that I leave you to an expert on meditation, Jon Kabat-Zinn. He wrote one of “the” books on the power of meditation, Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain and Illness. Kabat-Zinn has been a driving force in bringing meditation from the realm of “hippies and gurus” into mainstream medicine. His work is based on bringing calmness to the mind and body and paying attention on purpose in the present moment in a non-judgmental way. The practice of mindfulness meditation can create an inner peace and acceptance that benefit both your physical and emotional well-being. Kabat-Zinn espouses both formal mindfulness meditation and bringing mindfulness to your everyday activities.

Kabat-Zinn teaches a mindfulness meditation course at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center. In the last 30 years, Kabat-Zinn has seen countless individuals reduce or relieve pain, fatigue, high blood pressure, shortness of breath, fear, and stress through the practice of mindfulness meditation.

I will be the first to admit that in our fast-paced, 24/7-connected world, it’s hard to set aside time for silence. In my initial attempts at meditation, I found my mind wandering toward my to-do lists and other concerns. How could I sit still for 20 minutes when thoughts such as “did we give the dog his flea medication this month?” and “what other tragedy can strike Downton Abbey?” ran through my head? I discovered that guided meditations in podcasts worked for me. And you can be creative in how you practice. Yoga is meditation, as are prayer and mindful walking, which is particularly wonderful in a park, wooded area, or near water. There is no right way or wrong way to meditate. Some can be inspired to meditate by observing the simplicity of a child in the moment, so I’ve included a picture of my daughter to illustrate this blog.

What I found is that mindfulness meditation cleaned up some of my mental clutter, made me feel more positive and calm, and provided me with an energy boost. It also made me feel as if I was in control of managing some of the side effects of my treatment, which was a powerful feeling.

When meals were brought to my house and comforting messages sent, friends and family were showing me their compassion and kindness and hoping their support would promote my healing. Mindfulness meditation teaches us to connect to our bodies and our minds and treat ourselves with acceptance, compassion, and kindness. Mindfulness meditation centers us, and the more centered we are, the easier we will find connecting with other people. That connectedness, and seeing the basic goodness in ourselves, are meaningful tools in confronting cancer, edging us closer to beating the statistics. When the first step is to simply breathe (what could be easier?), you can begin as you finish this sentence. Give yourself a present, and enjoy the soothing silence.

Five years ago today I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My life has been one big whirl-a-twirl ride, filled with roller coaster loops, turns, and rolls, ever since. There have been extreme highs and a few menacing death drops. Yes, breast cancer took me for a ride and changed my life forever; yet, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Maybe that’s exaggerating a bit. I’m pretty sure I would not have chosen to get breast cancer… nor to be infused with chemo (Sacred Juice) for a year… nor to gain weight due to steroids… have my breasts cut off and rebuilt… lose my hair… put my business on hold… on and on. But all we’ve got are the cards we’re dealt… and what we do with them is our choice. That’s where choosing joy comes in.

My gratitude for my healing overflows. I’ve written about it, talked about it, prayed over it… and will continue to do so. I am blessed in more ways than even I understand.

Through cancer I’ve met unbelievable people, gained wisdom and insight, and found purpose as I help others on their own healing journey. Cancer was an unexpected visitor that brought me blessings and gifts disguised as infusions, needles, pills, stitches, and scars.

Now, as I dance into the next phase of my life, I grab hold of family and friends and move on. I remind myself to cherish every moment, even when old patterns try to break in. I bring with me all that I’ve learned and all that I treasure.

Five years ago today, cancer took center stage and captured my life’s spotlight. Today, I shift its beam back into place… for it to shine brightly on:

MUSIC. DANCE. PASSION PROJECTS. MOUNTAINS. CHOCOLATE. FUN.

LOVE AND PASSION. TRAVELS. MOVIES. BOOKS. PLAYTIME.

LAUGHTER (the pants-splitting kind).

FIRE CEREMONIES. ANIMALS. VACATIONS. PHOTOGRAPHY.

I am still here, passionately offering support to others on their own healing journey. But it’s a new day, and Positively Pat is spreading her wings and taking in more: soaring higher and higher, spreading love, healing, peace, laughter, compassion, kindness, and joy… while at the same time, mimicking the frolicking hummingbird and sucking the sweetest nectar from this beautiful life.

And so it is.

Dance on!

I was diagnosed with hormone negative breast cancer in 2006, and I’ve been studying this disease since then, reading research papers, interviewing experts and writing about TNBC, cancer in general and other broad health topics such as nutrition and exercise.

As a health journalist, I’ve been able to talk with oncologists, psychologists, dieticians, exercise specialists and researchers on everything from chemo brain to the benefits of acai. I have learned a great deal from them.

More important, I have visited with hundreds of women with TNBC through this blog. So, I know what it is like to walk this road, and I think I understand at least some of what you are going through.

It is this last perspective, yours, that I keep foremost in my mind.

I’m not a doctor.  I’m one of you.

Now to the questions:

Q. How do I manage the stress of TNBC plus family and job strain?

Stress hits all of us at one time or another after diagnosis, during treatment and as we face life after cancer. I could talk about this all month and not get it all in.

So, I will briefly discuss three areas — juggling everyday life, finding support and managing worries.

Our lives keep going even when we get sick. The kids need to get to school, the toilets need cleaning, we need to pay the — we need to work to pay for all of this. And some of us have other family members with health issues to worry about, as well.

This is, in fact, overwhelming. So, you have to ask for help, more than once, of many different people.

Recognize that some people are as helpful as the day is long, and some simply aren’t, and most are in between. So, if somebody disappoints you, don’t think that everybody will do the same thing. Ask somebody else.

And be specific. You will get many people saying, let me know if you need help. Let them know with details. Can you pick Lily up after preschool tomorrow? I hate going to chemo alone. Would you come with me? It will give us a good chance to chat.

Find a supportive friend with whom you can cry, fret, vent and just emotionally exhale or laugh a lot, laughter is such good therapy, or discuss this disease with them and help find clarification in your own mind.

We’ve all made good friends online who can send us virtual hugs. I do it all the time, so let me know if you need one. But, it’s good to get an in person hug, as well.

Now, to worry. I believe there is stress that is specific to TNBC, and there is some research to support that. In a survey of 989 women with breast cancer, those with estrogen-negative breast cancer reported the highest level of stress, as did Black and Latino women.

But, this leads us to a chicken or egg question. Did the stress lead to the cancer or did the cancer lead to the stress?

The survey did not test for this, but the research does indicate that stress may be more specifically associated with TNBC than with other breast cancer subtypes.

And this is tied to something that bothers me every time I read about this disease in a research paper or on the news, because we often use these words lethal, deadly, especially aggressive.

TNBC-related stress then can be especially heightened by not having a plain old breast cancer but one that is characterized with doctors, researchers and writers as especially deadly — as though we thought there were other kinds.

Look at this recent post on my Facebook page in which I ranted about my frustration with journalists and researchers who use these terms and imply that the disease is automatically a killer. I got a surprising result. My TNBC women popped up immediately with responses. Women agreed that hearing those words adds to their stress.

Some typical responses:

“Every time I read those phrases, my heart skips a beat.”
“I do get very depressed and scared when I read terms such as particularly deadly.”
“Gets me every time, makes me get a lump in my throat.”

And because we are dealing with an especially mean disease, we worry that we have to do everything, everything, everything we can to combat it – become organic vegetarians, and get two hours of exercise a day, and meditate and read medical books and take every vitamin and supplement known to humankind and paint the kitchen.

Okay, I exaggerate, a little. But I have noticed that women with this disease can be extremely hard on themselves by trying to take on the world of healthy eating, living, thinking and being all at once, all fabulous goals, but you can’t ever do everything at once, especially when you have other responsibilities to manage, as we all do. So, don’t try to do and be everything.

Look for balance. 

We will talk about diet and physical activity in a minute, but in all things, go for moderation and balance. Don’t try to change your lifestyle on a dime. Go slowly and implement changes bit by bit.

Cut out some sugary goodies and processed foods like doughnuts, colas, cookies, potato chips and French fries. Those don’t do anybody any good. But, leave yourself some treats. Don’t try to become the Mother Teresa of health foods over night.

If an ice cream cone or chocolate malt gets you through the day right now, that is just fine. And you might need to get through treatment first before you go for significant lifestyle changes. One step at a time.

Another root of some of our stress, I believe, is the thought that we caused our cancer. We didn’t eat well enough, we drank too much, exercised too little, took on too much work.

Okay, that was me. But, seriously, one of our first thoughts when we are diagnosed is what did I do to cause this? That’s a decent question to ask in terms of modifying your behavior to reduce your risk of recurrence, but don’t beat yourself up for not having lived a perfect life up to this point. And don’t try to be perfect now. Phew, talk about stress.

You did not cause your cancer.

You can reduce some of your stress by getting offline. Shut down the computer and go do something else. Yes, this seems ironic coming from a person talking to you online. But, consider limiting your computer time. Set an alarm to go off in a half hour, and make that your stopping point. You can spend hours sucked into the ether of the internet, and it is just not a good use of your time, your mind or especially your soul.

Plus, it is easy to soak up other people’s stress. When I was going through treatment, I could physically feel my stress building online because I was reading about this person’s TNBC recurrence, that person’s side effects and the death of a favorite online friend. Worries that never before had occurred to me suddenly loomed as real possibilities. I shut off the computer.

Take the time you’d use online and give yourself a break. Brew a cup of tea, and find a pleasant place to drink it, outside if possible, or inside with some music. Do nothing but enjoy the tea, and take deep breaths. When the stress intrudes, push it away with a deep cleansing breath. I once posted a simple note on my blog, breathe in, breathe out, and think of something beautiful. I was astounded at the emails I got on that one. Apparently, we need to be reminded to breathe. Try it now. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Ah, doesn’t that feel good? And the thing about a tea break is it only needs to last as long as it takes you to drink the tea. So, it does not require a huge planning or a time commitment, but it gives you an important breather, literally.

Just a little activity also will help reduce stress. The activity itself calms our bodies, but going off and doing something also reboots our mind into thinking about something other than taxanes versus anthracyclines.

And research on breast cancer patients has shown that going outdoors helped clear their minds and helped them think better.

Yoga is an especially helpful stress reliever, helping us sleep better and relieving fatigue. Yoga uses deep breathing and stretching techniques that can be low impact and easy to do when you’re lacking energy. I do a 20-minute morning routine that calms me like almost nothing can, and it takes less time to do than follow a new thread on a message board.

And, finally, don’t turn to alcohol to reduce stress. Alcohol may calm us for a minute, but it causes a host of problems later on including increasing our cancer risk. It leads to poorer sleep and nervousness when the initial effects wear out. So, it can actually increase our stress.

Again, moderation. A glass of wine occasionally is a nice break. It should not, however, become a habit or a necessity. [Editor's Note: Research has consistently shown that regularly drinking alcohol increases a woman’s risk of breast cancer. Results from a new study support the connection between regularly drinking even moderate amounts of alcohol -- as little as one drink per day -- and cancer risk: New Study Adds More Support to Connection Between Risk and Regularly Drinking Any Amount of Alcohol]

Breastcancer.org will continue to post questions and answers from Pat’s (Un)Common Knowledge Transcript. You can find the complete transcript on Pat’s blog, Positives About Negative.

Art Solomon

      Ojibwe elder and spiritual leader

      For the People: Teachings on the Natural Way

Since that fateful day in 2008 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my community of women has expanded exponentially. Maybe it’s because I am an only child: my girlfriends have always been my sacred sisters. They’re a hoot… hilarious, revealing, nurturing, safe, and through them, I find peace and healing energy. Some of my girls have been around since grade school… others I just picked up through work and travel… even on Facebook. While there is no doubt I love men, there’s no place I’d rather be than hanging with my girls.

These days, many of the women I meet are beautiful and courageous souls on the breast cancer journey to wellness. They’re coming into my life almost daily now, sent by doctors, friends, and nurses. Even friends of friends direct the shell-shocked women in their life to me, Positively Pat, for information about oncologists, plastic surgeons, chemo, wigs, and more. I usually can’t help myself, so I also dish out encouragement, hope, and inspiration along with patient-to-patient tips and advice based on my personal experiences during treatment. In 2010, I ended up with twenty new BFFs, coming together in Miami to create the breast cancer support group Link of Hope Sistas. Women helping women. It’s where I flourish.

Yes… I’m a girlfriend’s girlfriend, which is why, in the midst of a busy, crazy schedule, I hopped on a plane to California to speak at Campowerment, a three-day/three-night sleepaway Malibu camp/retreat for grown-up women. The weekends are designed to help overworked, stressed-out women totally disconnect from life and responsibilities, while giving them time to reconnect with themselves and a sisterhood, all of whom are also juggling the demands of a ridiculously hectic life. The setting was perfect: a beautiful bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I chilled in front of the campfire in my sweats and laughed till my sides hurt with 60 women, most who didn’t know each other on Thursday when we arrived. By Sunday morning, after flying off zip lines (or not) and facing fears from the top of a 35-foot telephone pole (Leap of Faith)… while doing yoga, dancing, meditating, and playing Color War games with these women… magic happened. Maybe it was because we knew our days without cell phones and computers and makeup were almost over. Maybe it was because no one was demanding our attention.  We were just taking care of ourselves and just being… taking life in… playing, chilling, and partying while roasting marshmallows and singing James Taylor songs around the campfire. We were healing, connecting, and being validated as we shared secrets, struggles, and stories with strangers who seemed to care. I connected with so many women on so many levels that weekend… women ages 20 to 70 who came to Malibu as strangers and left three days later as sisters.

I hosted interactive workshops aptly named “Joy in the Midst of Turmoil.” I shared the details of my dance with cancer, my breast cancer journey, urging these women to embrace whatever their challenge with strength, trust, peace, and joy. We have no control over the events that sometimes take over our lives, but we do have control over how we respond to them and how we live our lives moving forward.

Some asked how they could possibly find joy in the midst of the some of the awful things happening in their lives. We’re not robots. Sometimes the rock we feel like we’re pushing uphill seems bigger. Give yourself permission to feel the brutal pain, grief, and sadness for a minute or two, but don’t pitch a tent in that place. That was my advice, though I don’t always take it myself (but I try). I aim to let the emotions come up for a while and then push to move past them. Quickly. That helps me get to joy much faster. When I get to other side I remind myself to bring along the blessings, lessons, and wisdom gained during my brief visit to fear, sadness, or worry, and then… joy takes center stage.

One evening an old man told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.

“One is Evil – It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

“The other is Good – It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?”

The old man simply replied, “The one you feed.”

The trip reminded me why I need to feed my soul with girlfriend juju. There’s a global sisterhood that we’re all a part of… no matter who we are, where we live, what we do. We are all, at the core, the same. When we open ourselves and our hearts to connect with other women… healing happens, and life takes a more purposeful and joyful course.

I am woman. I am proud. Dance on…….

The mammogram showed a right-side breast that looked like a snow globe – the calcifications were so numerous. I remember thinking that the technician had known my fate – my most intimate of life-changing information – a whole 3 days before I did! I had no family history. I had no idea that you could even get breast cancer so young.

I found the lump myself. I didn’t really do regular breast exams, but every once in a while – when I remembered – I would check for lumps. I had noticed something unusual and thought nothing of it until a few months later, in the same spot, the little unusual lumpy thing seemed to have grown in size. Alarmed, I called my doctor immediately.

I was diagnosed with stage II, estrogen positive, HER2-negative breast cancer. Being young and generally healthy, my team of surgeons, oncologists, and radiologists threw everything at me. A mastectomy with reconstruction, a 6-month chemotherapy cocktail of Taxol and Cytoxan, 4 weeks of radiation, followed by a 5-year dessert of hormonal therapy. I could not tolerate tamoxifen, so in order for me to switch to Femara, they put me into chemically induced menopause with Lupron. They countered the side effects of these drugs with Zoloft. I was physically knocked off my feet. But, like a warrior in battle, I got back up every single day to face my opponent – which just so happened to be my own body.

To say that I was angry at the cells and tissues and blood and veins of my breasts would be too simple. I felt cheated and deceived. My body was a Trojan horse hiding the enemy hidden deep inside. I could no longer trust and find shelter in the one most important home I knew – my own body. If I was to win the battle with this particular rival, I would have to bomb my own house and send troops into my own veins whose mission it was to destroy the good as well as the bad. I was exhausted, scared, and confused. And then, like any war-torn community, I would have to rebuild.

Where do we go when we need to rebuild? What are our thoughts when everything we thought we knew about our self and the world has shifted so dramatically that every time we look in the mirror we see the scars of our struggle? How do we feel safe when we have come so close to the edge on some dark night that we have nearly fallen off and we can’t seem to catch our breath? How do we begin to find our ground?

There is a Hindu deity named Akhilandeshwari. Akhilanda translates as “never not broken.” She is a fierce goddess who rides a crocodile that represents the fear that usually accompanies change. Fear spins us around, turns us upside down, inside out and right side up again. It blocks us from seeing with the truth. Akhilandeshwari represents the part of ourselves that is always just a little broken, in transition, never whole – and in riding her fear, is offered the opportunity to evolve, grow, learn, and maybe become new again. She breaks apart the idea of how we see our self in order that we can see our truth and embrace transformation. I can think of few things that can break you more dramatically than a breast cancer diagnosis and treatment and fewer things that can bring about such powerful opportunity for growth.

Yoga has always been a part of my life. My mother had a beautiful daily practice that I remember very clearly when I was a young girl growing up in the suburbs of NYC. That was the late 60s, and there were no yoga studios scattered like coffee shops throughout our town the way there are today. She followed her own heart into her yoga. She became my first teacher and role model. I dabbled with yoga on and off throughout the years. Classes were becoming more popular and accessible. But I was not very flexible and wanted immediate gratification from my efforts. I did, however, love the way it made my body feel and how it grounded me emotionally.

I arrived at my first post-surgery yoga class at a small local yoga studio to take a class with the owner – a beautiful woman who taught a gentle and compassionate form of hatha yoga. I was in the middle of chemotherapy. I wore a lavender bandana to cover my hairless scalp. This was the first time I had been in a public place wearing just a scarf and not my wig. In the yoga studio space I felt vulnerable, but somehow safe. I was weak and fatigued, easing gratefully into child’s pose whenever the opportunity offered itself. Something about the experience felt incredibly healing and nurturing. In the short space of time of the class I actually was able to feel compassion for my sad, battered body and soul. So, I kept going back to class. Then one day I actually was strong enough to lift myself up in to urdhva dhanurasana – half wheel pose. That is when I knew my body had the amazing capacity to heal itself and that maybe I had the amazing capacity to forgive it.

As I became stronger, so did my practice become more physically empowering. With each reach I found myself forgiving and healing my body, but more importantly I was forgiving the universe that had delivered this insane journey that I was traveling. Shifts began to occur. I realized that I could connect with something bigger than myself, and, in doing so, I was becoming less afraid. There was a way home. There was a way to rebuild the house that had been bombed. Day by day, moment by moment, piece by piece, breath by breath, I began to rebuild. My yoga practice was giving me the skills and the compassion to do so. Like Akhilandeshwari, I had been broken physically and emotionally, and this breaking had opened me up to my deepest fears in order that I might evolve beyond them.

A few years later I saw the opportunity to deepen my practice and my knowledge of yoga in a yoga teacher training program. I did not think that I wanted to teach – I just wanted to learn more about this beautiful, healing way of integrating the soul and the body with my unique life experience. I came to the program with rounded shoulders – protective of my trauma and my scars. I was still on medication, weak, lacked flexibility, and still held onto a lot of fear; but every minute, every challenge and success deepened my understanding of my own body and the lessons it had to bring me. What did it matter if my breasts were made of saline sacs if I could learn to gently open the heart behind them?

We give away the things that mean the most to us and only the things that we give away truly belong to us. My yoga practice was one of the greatest gifts I could have received from my breast cancer, and it is because of this that I am so passionate about being able to share its healing beauty with other people. It has been 10 years, and now I live in Geneva, Switzerland with my husband and two children. I teach several yoga classes a week to expats living here. Several of my students are cancer survivors or are currently in the middle of the most challenging part of their treatment. Others have their own unique traumas and challenges that are just as important to their journey. I know that my life experiences and ability to forgive and find healing make me a more compassionate and intuitive teacher.

Sometimes the things we least expect are our greatest teachers. If we can stop labeling and judging we can be more open to accepting and growing. At the Omega Institute this summer, I bought myself a card: “Be gentle with yourself – you are growing.” And that, after all, is what life is ultimately about – the capacity that we as humans possess for self knowledge and growth through our experiences and the patience to accept that life will unfold in ways in which we often have no control. We have to let go and trust that it is all as it should be. Sometimes we have no choice but to surrender to change.

The critics say that annual mammograms are unnecessary because they result in too many false alarms and too much treatment, causing unnecessary harm and stress for women and leading to excess healthcare costs. For sure, mammograms are imperfect. But we’ve come a long way. Even past studies using old-fashioned techniques demonstrated a significant survival benefit with early detection. And today, an even greater survival benefit is likely with fewer side effects because of much improved mammography and other diagnostic techniques combined with more advanced treatment options. Plus, many women in this country are already at significant risk for breast cancer by age 40, when they’re in the prime of their lives with children and other loved ones who depend on them. The reality is that only 50% of women are following the current guidelines — putting themselves at even greater risk. They can’t afford to push off mammograms until 50.

Breastcancer.org has been invited to lead the debate this week in The Wall Street Journal, and I have graciously accepted an invitation to join their group of thought leaders called The Experts. Breastcancer.org is proud and determined to embrace this important opportunity to encourage more women to take advantage of regular mammography screening. So many lives are at stake as breast cancer is the most common cancer to affect women. Please join me in today’s Wall Street Journal debate, “Should All Women Over 40 Get Annual Mammograms?” I also want to thank my colleague, Dr. Emily Conant, for her expert contribution to this important discussion.

We welcome your comments below. How do you feel about regular mammograms?

but, sadly, it’s true

that Bang-ups

and Hang-ups

can happen to you

– from Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You’ll Go

I love traveling to new places, beaches, mountains, cities, historic sites — they’re all enchanting to me. But the journey I navigated this last year was a far cry from any other I have ever taken.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer on April 2, 2012. One day earlier and I would’ve thought it was a not-so-funny April Fools’ joke. My husband was the one who told me I had cancer, right before I was going to bed that night (I’m not recommending THAT timing for the cancer-talk to anyone who wants a tranquil night’s sleep). He is a physician at the hospital where I had had my biopsy and couldn’t refrain (who could) from peeking at the results immediately after they were posted. Note to hospital where he works: no need to reprimand him for privacy violations (we need the health insurance!) — I DID sign for him to have access to my reports. Because oncology is not his specialty, the only thing he could readily decipher from the biopsy report was “breast” and “cancer,” which at that moment summed up our collective knowledge of the disease that was about to take over our lives.

That began my journey, like the one traveled by so many women (and some men) before me. What begins with the dreaded finding of a lump or a mammogram return call moves to traversing through what feels like endless testing, ultrasounds, biopsies, blood tests, MRIs, CAT scans, and genetic testing; through some tough phone calls and nerve-wracking decisions; and then winds down the road to surgery and, in too many instances, nasty chemo and/or radiation. My itinerary included a diagnosis of stage II invasive lobular cancer, a bilateral mastectomy with a latissimus dorsi flap reconstruction, six rounds of chemo, and continues with a year-long clinical trial of herceptin and hormone therapy: a “bang-up” adventure for sure.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked,

Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.

A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!

Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?

How much can you lose?  How much can you win?

How much can you lose? Ouch, how about your hair? It’s not enough to lay in your bed drooling and feeling wretched after chemo, too afraid to stray even 6 feet from the bathroom. No, once you’re safely through the first round of chemo and most of its loathsome side effects, your crowning glory falls out and you’re left looking like a molting chicken.

When my hair started to fall out, I shaved my head into a Mohawk to try to inject some humor into that otherwise cheerless event. You need every laugh you can salvage when you lose your hair. The picture of me with my Mohawk was passed around via smart phones a little quicker and in a little wider circulation than I had hoped. And I could only think there went my chances at the Supreme Court (or, for that matter, any respectable job as a lawyer). In my mind’s eye, that picture of me with the Mohawk would surface just when the confirmation hearings would be near conclusion, and the opposing senator would stand up and shout “what respectable woman jurist sports a Mohawk”?? MY response: someone battling a disease that requires every ounce of humor that can be mustered, even shaving your head into a Mohawk for laughs. You see, you can’t laugh and be afraid or depressed at the same time. Finding those precious laughs on this journey is the “how much can you win.”

So each of us on this journey through and around breast cancer will travel to places we never wanted to visit, but at every stop on our route we’ll try to learn all we can to make the journey as smooth and successful as we possibly can, find comfort in the people who surround us, laugh any chance we get (after all, it‘s supposed to be the best medicine), and support our breast cancer “sistas” in every way possible. That’s what I hope to do by writing a regular blog for Breastcancer.org. An organization I value immensely, because I relied on it so much when I was in the throes of treatment. In this blog I hope to address issues and events that matter to us, the breast cancer community, in a way that continues the great work of Breastcancer.org. Together, as it says in one of the last lines of Oh, The Places You’ll Go, let’s move mountains (no pun intended!).