Catherine Gigante-Brown

Upset you lost your keys? Try losing your breast. Pissed off about missing that train? Try missing your son’s 8th grade graduation because of a horrific infection from fluid buildup in the previously-mentioned missing breast. See what I mean? It kind of puts life into perspective.

I fumbled with my lace bra, hoping my silicone form wouldn't fall out from the left cup. I wasn't exactly ready . . . yet I was.

erotic. intimate. unapologetic.

I’m boycotting you until you start recognizing breast cancer survivors like me by carrying mastectomy bras.

Re-imagining the cervix, preserving the earth, facing breast cancer a whole new way…Annie Sprinkle’s wisdom abounds. “Life is a performance art piece,” she said...

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

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

When David was about 12, he told me that he wanted to take the train to school alone. My gut reaction was, “No way in hell!” I mean, we live in a safe neighborhood and all, but David has ADHD and was easily distracted. What if he missed his stop? What if someone messed with him?

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.

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.