Catherine Gigante-Brown

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

I go for checkups when I’m supposed to: every three months to the oncologist and every six months to the breast surgeon. I go to SHARE support group meetings to bolster myself. I try to get enough sleep, despite the occasional night spent wide-eyed with dread.

Being a little bit chubby is better than being a lot dead.

erotic. intimate. unapologetic.

My husband and I agreed: raising a child with an independent spirit who made decisions for himself was a good thing.

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

I know it’s not a politically correct one, but I’ve got a confession to make: earth-friendly hotels stink. There, I said it.

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

I left Cuba in 1949, when I was 11 years old. Back then, I didn't understand why my mother sent me away. I still don't.

I try. I really do. But whenever I attempt to embrace my husband Peter’s Cuban culture, I always screw up.