Bob Riter

Wearing My Cancer Sucks Button

Posted September 17th, 2013

I often wear a button that says cancer sucks. In addition to pretty well summing up the cancer experience, it’s a great conversation starter.

Bob Riter

Cancer With Grace

Posted September 4th, 2013

Grace is one of those qualities that we struggle to define, but recognize when we see it. People with grace always seem to do and say the right thing, and do so with honest kindness.

Bob Riter

Appreciating the Normal

Posted August 23rd, 2013

Most people with a chronic illness experience days when their pain fades into the background and they once again take note of the world around them.

Bob Riter

A Health Professional in the Family

Posted August 7th, 2013

Sooner or later, someone in your family will be diagnosed with cancer. If you’re a doctor, nurse, scientist, or other health professional, you may feel obligated to help that person navigate through the decisions that need to be made.

Bob Riter

Getting Second Opinions

Posted July 24th, 2013

Cancer guidebooks are full of grandiose suggestions like “assemble a team of experts,” but most people don’t know where to begin.

Don’t Go Alone When the Diagnosis is Cancer

Posted June 26th, 2013

It’s important to have someone with you at doctor’s appointments when you’re dealing with a cancer diagnosis.

Adjusting to the New Normal

Posted June 19th, 2013

“The new normal” is a phrase used to describe how life changes for some people who have been through cancer.

What to Say When Cancer Returns

Posted June 12th, 2013

When cancer returns, the focus usually shifts from curing the cancer to controlling the cancer. It’s an entirely different situation from the initial diagnosis, and both patient and health professionals know it.

Questions Every Patient Should Ask

Posted June 6th, 2013

These three questions sound simple, but they aren’t asked nearly enough. It’s more than OK to ask – it’s encouraged!

Parking Lot Moment

Posted May 13th, 2013

You’re initially stunned when you hear the words, “You have cancer.” Your brain freezes and things are a blur for at least a few minutes.