Catherine Gigante-Brown

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

I saw my present mother-in-law in a whole new light the first time she held my newborn son.

Although I tried to convince myself that I wasn't racist, if the truth were told, I didn't like Muslims. Especially after 9/11.

The Daily News quoted one painted lady as saying, “People come up to us sometimes and say what we do is disgusting,” she said. “But what is disgusting about the female body? They shield their kids sometimes, and I think, ‘Kids come from the female body.’”

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

It sounded too good to be true: comfortable, attractive bra inserts for breast cancer survivors like me. I got on the computer, checked out their website, and immediately put in for one.

All bets were off after 9/11. In a twisted way, it proved to me that worry was fruitless. No one ever saw the terrorist attacks coming.

Anne Lamott's Operating Instructions wasn't your typical cutesie baby fare. It was raw, real—and unabashedly funny.

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.

A new U.S. Preventive Services Task Force recommendation on mammograms ensures more women will die of breast cancer.