Whole Health Series

October 8, 2025

Whole Health Series: Mental Health & Cancer

By Maimah Karmo

When you’re told you have cancer, the impact is not just on your body, it reverberates through your mind, spirit, and sense of self. I remember lying awake at night, my body exhausted from treatment, but my mind racing with fears: What if it comes back? How do I explain this to my children? Who will I be after this?

Cancer does not only test your physical strength; it can shake the foundations of your mental and emotional health. For me, healing wasn’t just about chemo, surgery, radiation or other treatments it was about learning how to take care of my whole self, inside and out.

Why Mental Health Matters

Mental health is essential to overall well-being. While 1 in 5 people will experience mental illness in their lifetime, everyone faces challenges that affect their mental health. For cancer patients and survivors, those challenges often feel magnified. Mental health needs can also be intensified by identity and life context. For example, Black women often face systemic inequities in diagnosis, treatment, and pain management, compounded by the cultural expectation to be the “strong one,” which can make it harder to ask for or receive support. Younger women may grapple with fertility concerns, career interruptions, dating and intimacy challenges, and the isolation of being diagnosed at an age when peers are not typically facing cancer , LGBTQI+ patients may face additional stressors fear of discrimination or misgendering in clinics, strained family dynamics, challenges around intimacy or fertility decisions, and the emotional labor of constantly self-advocating. Immigrant women, students, and those on work visas or awaiting citizenship may carry added worry about employment, insurance tied to a visa, language barriers, and fear of engaging with systems. If this is, you: we see you. Your experience is valid, and you deserve affirming, competent care.

Some of the most common mental health concerns include:

Fear of recurrence
Fatigue, sleep disruption, and physical pain
Changes in body image or sexual function
Anxiety related to treatment or test results
Feelings of isolation or vulnerability
Stress on relationships and communication
Deep questions about life, mortality, and meaning
Navigating identity-based stressors (e.g., discrimination, misgendering, family rejection)
Practical and legal stressors (e.g., job/insurance tied to visa status, language barriers)

Managing mental health alongside treatment can be overwhelming. Depression and anxiety can make it harder to exercise, eat well, connect with loved ones, or stay on top of medical care. But there is hope. Healing may not follow a straight path, but it is possible.

Allyship & Inclusive Care

For Black women:

Seek providers who actively listen and validate your concerns — your voice is central to your care.
If you feel your pain or symptoms are being dismissed, advocate for second opinions or additional testing; bring an ally to appointments if possible.
Connect with survivorship and advocacy groups centering Black women; shared spaces can affirm your experience and provide resources that reflect your reality.
Release the pressure of the “strong Black woman” narrative — leaning on support is strength, not weakness.

For younger women:

Be upfront about fertility, sexuality, and long-term survivorship concerns; ask for referrals to reproductive specialists or sexual health counselors early.
Talk openly with your care team about career and financial impacts — social workers can help you navigate workplace leave, insurance, or scholarships.
Join peer groups for young survivors; seeing yourself reflected in others can ease feelings of isolation.
Remind yourself that your life plans are still valid, even if they take new shape after cancer.

For patients & partners (LGBTQI+):

You deserve respectful, affirming care. Share your name and pronouns once; providers should honor them.
Include your chosen family in appointments if that feels supportive.
Ask for providers with LGBTQI+ competency; request privacy around sensitive history or surgeries.

For immigrants/visa holders:

Ask for an interpreter and translated materials; it’s your right to understand your care.
Tell your team if insurance or employment status limits access—social workers/patient navigators can help problem-solve options.
If paperwork, transportation, or time-off is a barrier, ask about letters of support, flexible scheduling, and community resources.

For allies (family, friends, clinicians, community):

Practice name/pronoun respect, avoid assumptions, and reflect language patients use for their bodies and relationships.
Validate the identity, immigration, financial and offer concrete help: rides, meals, childcare, admin tasks.
Make space for chosen family; don’t gatekeep who “counts” as support.

Taking Steps Toward Mental Wellness

Recognize your feelings. Naming your emotions is the first step toward processing them.

Am I no longer enjoying things I once loved?
Has sleep become an escape rather than rest?
Do I feel persistently anxious, hopeless, or overwhelmed?
Am I withdrawing from friends, family, or activities?
Do I find it difficult to focus, eat, or care for myself?

Build routines that lift you up. Whether it’s journaling, walking, or prayer, consistency provides grounding.

What small habits bring me peace, journaling, prayer, or meditation?
Do I feel more energized when I move my body, walking, stretching, or dancing?
Am I starting or ending my day in ways that nourish me?
Which daily rituals remind me of who I am beyond cancer?

Remove toxic influences. Protecting your peace is just as important as caring for your body. Ask yourself:

Do certain environments, people, or media leave me drained or anxious?
Am I safe and respected where I receive care? If not, who can help me switch providers or advocate for me (navigator, social worker, friend, chosen family)?
Am I setting boundaries around conversations, commitments, or relationships that feel harmful?
What would it look like to replace negativity with affirmations, supportive voices, or uplifting activities?
Detoxing your environment creates space for healing and resilience.

Connect with others. Community, whether through friends, therapy, or support groups is a powerful medicine.

Who in my life makes me feel safe, seen, and supported?
Am I leaning on friends, family, faith communities, or support groups when I need them?
Have I found communities that reflect my identity and needs (e.g., LGBTQI+ survivor groups, immigrant support orgs, faith/spiritual spaces, campus networks)?
Would talking to a therapist, mentor, or survivor network help me feel less alone?
How can I practice asking for help without feeling guilty?
Connection is a powerful medicine. Let others remind you that you are not alone on this journey.

You Are Not Alone

Checking in with yourself regularly helps you notice when something deeper may be happening. Remember: noticing these shifts is not weakness, it’s wisdom. The earlier you recognize patterns; the sooner you can seek support and begin healing.

Routines don’t have to be big to be powerful. Even a few minutes of intentional practice each day can create stability and remind you that healing is not only physical, but also emotional and spiritual, too. Detoxing your environment creates space for resilience. And connection is a powerful medicine. Let others remind you that you are not alone on this journey.

If you are dealing with depression, anxiety, or thoughts of suicide, know this: your feelings are valid, and your life matters. Suicide prevention begins with conversation, compassion, and connection.

If you or someone you love is in crisis, call or text 988 in the U.S. for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Trained counselors are available 24/7.

By caring for your mind as intentionally as your body, you create a more empowered narrative. Small acts of self-compassion ripple outward, uplifting you and everyone connected to you. Remember: mental health is whole health.

September 23, 2025

Whole Health Series: Guide for Fertility & Preservation

By Maimah Karmo

When you’re diagnosed with cancer, the world stops. The air shifts. The future you imagined suddenly feels out of reach.

When I was told my breast cancer treatment would leave me infertile, the words hit me like a gut punch. I still remember that day, my mind spinning. I peeked into my daughter’s room, later that night watching her sleep. A deep ache washed over me knowing it would be just her and me. I had hoped to give her a house full of siblings.

“I grieved for the children I would never hold. For the pitter-patter of little feet that would never echo through my home. For the bedtime stories, the scraped knees, and the graduations I would never get to witness. Was it my fault? Should I have had children sooner? Was God trying to tell me something? I was 32. I thought I had more time. For a long time, I sat in that grief. And then slowly I began to find hope again.”
~ Maimah Karmo

A cancer diagnosis can shatter more than your health it can disrupt your dreams of building a family. Women, particularly younger women and women from marginalized backgrounds, often face additional barriers:

Insufficient or late information about options
Limited access to fertility preservation resources
Lack of insurance coverage
Medical bias

These barriers mean too many women are forced to make life-altering decisions, without having all the facts or the resources to act. Here’s what I learned from my journey:

Empower yourself with knowledge. Understand your diagnosis, your treatment plan, and the fertility preservation options available to you. The more informed you are, the more confident your choices will be.
Get a second opinion. If you’re uncertain about your doctor’s recommendations, another specialist may offer new possibilities.
Seek out resources and don’t be afraid to take some time. I can’t speak for everyone, but after my diagnosis, I thought the cancer was growing every second, so I was afraid to wait to find answers. I kept hearing the words aggressive, so took the doctor’s word for it and let my hopes go.
Build your support circle. Friends, family, and healthcare providers who truly listen and advocate for your needs can be your lifeline – and if you can find a support system of other patients, talk to them and learn what they did, when, why and who they worked with and take all the information you learn into account as you make a decision that’s right for you and your long-term health.
Speak your truth. Your healthcare team can only address your concerns if they know them, never be afraid to ask questions or express your preferences.

Navigating fertility after a cancer diagnosis is a journey of self-advocacy, and a decision that will impact you for the rest of your life. Explore every option, and use your voice, you reclaim control over your future. Whatever decision you make, know that it’s the best decision you can make with what you know now.

Fertility Preservation: What to Know

Cancer treatments can affect fertility temporarily or permanently. That’s why it’s essential to have conversations before treatment begins about:

Egg & Embryo Freezing (Cryopreservation): Mature eggs can be frozen unfertilized or fertilized with sperm and stored as embryos.
Ovarian Tissue Freezing: Still experimental, but an option for some patients, including younger girls.
Ovarian Transposition: Surgically moving ovaries out of the radiation field.
Fertility-Sparing Surgery: In select early-stage cancers, part of the reproductive system can be preserved.
Ovarian Suppression: Hormonal treatment to temporarily pause ovarian function during treatment.

Financial Costs of Fertility:

“I would love to see a shift in fertility coverage by insurance and grants for women who want to use the eggs or embryos they have stored”
~ Shoni Brown MS, ED, Angel Advocate

Fertility preservation is not only an emotional decision; it’s a financial one. For many young breast cancer patients, the high cost of egg or embryo freezing can be a major barrier. Patients often invest significant time, energy, and money in fertility preservation, with studies showing they may spend an average of 125 hours, go through about 2.7 assisted reproductive technology (ART) cycles, and pay around $25,000 over an 18-month period, all without a guaranteed outcome (Frankel et al., 2025). It’s important to know your options early. Patients should ask about fertility referrals as soon as possible after diagnosis and advocate for financial navigation support, including grants, discount programs, or employer-sponsored benefits. Fertility is a deeply personal journey and ensuring affordability is a critical part of equitable care.

Tip: Always ask about potential risks, hidden costs, and success rates, and request a full breakdown of fees.

Helpful Resources to Explore:

Livestrong Fertility: Discounted medications and services at partner clinics.
Reprotech’s Verna’s Purse: Reduced rates for egg, embryo, and sperm storage.
Worth the Wait: Grants for fertility preservation and family building.
ReUnite RX, HeartBeat, and Fertility LifeLines: Discounted fertility medications.

Your fertility story doesn’t end with cancer. Even if the path looks different than you once imagined, there are still ways forward whether that’s through preservation, surrogacy, adoption, or embracing new definitions of family. I share my story to remind you: you are not alone. You have options. And you have the right to the information, care, and resources that can help you choose the future you want. If you are navigating this journey right now, breathe. Ask the hard questions. Seek the right team. And know that hope is still yours to hold. A few of my friends have adopted one or more children.

My daughter is almost 23 years old. She is my only child and my everything. While I’d hoped to give her siblings, the relationship that we share is profoundly beautiful. I have had nearly 20 more years with her and she with me and we have made each one of those years count and look forward to many more. We have a relationship that has been made even closer because of the gift of each other and when we are sitting together quietly on the sofa reading or watching a movie, we’ll often joke about what it would be like if she had grown up with a house of boys like I did. We laugh about it. It took us both time to accept that I couldn’t give her the house full of siblings she saw that many of her friends had; but we could love the life that we had the blessing to live. Every survivor’s story is different, but I’m confident that you’ll write yours with compassion, love and hope.

To learn more about fertility preservation, resources, and patient support, visit us at www.tigerlilyfoundation.org

August 7, 2025

Whole Health Series: Navigating the Stages of Healing in Survivorship

I used to think healing had a timeline.

That once you rang the bell, you got to move on. That after the surgeries, the chemo, and the tears, life would pick up where it left off. You’d bounce back grateful, wiser, and ready for your “new normal.”

But survivorship doesn’t follow a script.
And healing? Healing has a mind of its own.

Enter Ria Patel, a young ovarian cancer survivor, who reminded me of this truth.

Ria was still deep in her chemotherapy journey when it happened. Her grandfather had just come home from the grocery store, and like she always had, she stepped outside to help. She reached for the gallon of milk and couldn’t lift it. Her arms gave out. Her body, once strong and familiar, whispered: not today.

It wasn’t just the milk. It was the weight of everything she’d been carrying in silence.

Something broke open in that moment. Ria realized that healing wasn’t about “getting over” cancer; it was about learning how to live after it. She had survived, yes. But now, she had to relearn how to thrive in a body and a world that had been forever changed.

“Your experience with cancer will always be a part of you, but it will never define you. Survivorship is going to be a journey of trying over and over again. If you find yourself failing, you’re doing it right.”
— Ria Patel, Ovarian Cancer Survivor

Ria spoke of the changes in her body, the shifting in her relationships, and the emotional toll of appointments that stacked up like bricks, each one heavier than the last.

But Ria is a fighter.

She signed up for a weightlifting class with her best friend, Sophie. Slowly, her strength returned. Deadlifts. Front squats. Each rep became a way to reclaim her body—inch by inch. But healing wasn’t linear. There were follow-up scans. Missed milestones. New waves of anxiety. Doctor’s visits that blurred together. Endless referrals. More tests. More waiting.

And yet, in the midst of it all, Ria chose to write. To speak. To heal out loud.

In My Life Matters magazine, she didn’t just tell her story with beautiful vulnerability; she used her voice to establish yet another bridge towards survivorship. One that helps lay the stones for every young woman sitting in a waiting room. For every survivor who thought they were “past it” until fear crept back in or some aftereffect from treatment manifested that wasn’t expected. Sharing her experience gave voice to so many others who look okay on the outside but feel shattered within.

Reading her words reminded me why platforms like My Life Matters magazine exist. Why Tigerlily exists. Why so many other organizations giving voice, support, and empowerment to patients exist.

Why we must keep telling our truths even when our voices shake.

Because survivorship isn’t the end of the story.
It’s the beginning of a new one.

And somewhere right now, there’s another young woman standing in her kitchen, realizing a gallon of milk is suddenly too heavy. The gallon of milk that represents so much of the weight that others can’t see and that many of us carry for a lifetime. The gallon that is so filled with gratitude for the blessing of life, yet heavy with the other things. This is the truth about survivorship, and the gallon of milk is in some ways carried as well by those who love us.

Someone said to me the other day, I don’t know how you stayed in one job for twenty years. I smiled. This “job” is me; it has been my lifeline, it has given me community, it has allowed me to serve, and it gives me a platform to amplify the experiences and voices of millions of cancer patients, survivors, thrivers, and those who love them.

With love,
Maimah Karmo