Catherine Gigante-Brown

At first, I felt like an abandoned ten-year-old, dropped off at a remote summer camp—with the extra added attraction of no cell phone reception or Wi-Fi. I thought the hardest part of the weekend was going to be picking out a robe. Boy, was I wrong!

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

As a breast cancer survivor, the worst day of the year is when I go for my mammogram. True, nobody actually likes mammos, but I’ve been bitten by one. On the way to my annual squishing, I realized that I have a bunch of coping strategies.

Content Notice: Death

After I got over the initial devastation, I pulled myself up by my big-girl panties and got on with it. Chemo was no picnic—but it was do-able.

I’m sure you’ll find it a delicious and well-stocked place. There are just a few rules

8. Educate, don’t fixate.

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

You learn a lot about people when you live in their home. The Taylors seemed to lead a joyless, Spartan existence.

"Bring over a meal—and leave. Breakfast, lunch or dinner, from soup to nuts. And coffee. Plenty of coffee."