Catherine Gigante-Brown

herbalist. shiatsu practitioner. healer.

The office cubicle is indeed a strange bird. Here's how to survive life in a box without driving you—or your office mates—crazy.

In the photograph, my great-grandmother, Margarita Cirigliano, is sitting at a small table on the front porch of the family home in Borough Park, Brooklyn.

That’s the thing about being a breast cancer survivor — it’s always there: it never goes away. The scars, the fear that lurks in the back of your mind like a boogeyman. You’re going along nicely, living your merry life, and you’re fine, until you’re not.

"Bring over a meal—and leave. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, from soup to nuts. And coffee. Plenty of coffee."

To the tattoo artist, I was a flesh canvas that she could transform into something beautiful.

raunchy renaissance woman. multimedia artist. probably a slut.

If the odds of getting cancer are like Powerball, why couldn't I be a scratch-off millionaire?

What Stephen didn’t know –– what no one knew –– was how weak my knees grew when I pushed through the swinging doors of the ICU.

Alas, I am the lone female in a house full of men. Only two men, but they take up a lot of space.