The Stress of Cancer: Trying to Heal While Life Keeps Moving
- Deborah Ann Martin

- 18 hours ago
- 20 min read

Working, managing family responsibilities, and finding ways to reduce stress during cancer treatment
I continued working while receiving doxorubicin chemotherapy.
My employer allowed me to flex my work schedule around treatments, bloodwork, scans, and medical appointments. That accommodation helped me protect my job and continue receiving my income.
I was grateful for it.
I was also exhausted.
Flexible hours allowed me to move work to evenings and weekends. They did not remove the work or give my body more hours to recover.
And that became an important lesson for me:
When you are fighting cancer, you need to think about what is consuming your energy—not just what is consuming your time.
Cancer treatment was already asking a great deal from my body. I eventually realized that I was also filling my remaining hours with work, household responsibilities, volunteering, social obligations, and things I had always considered normal.
I had to start asking a different question:
What can I let go of so my body and mind have more room to recover?
That became part of my cancer treatment too.
I Still Needed My Paycheck
Cancer did not stop my regular expenses.
I still had a home to maintain.
I still had utilities, insurance, groceries, transportation, and family responsibilities.
At the same time, cancer added deductibles, medical bills, gasoline, vitamins, delivery fees, prescriptions, and many other expenses.
I could not treat employment as optional simply because chemotherapy made working difficult.
My paycheck helped support my household and pay for the care that was keeping me alive.
That financial reality is important because advice about cancer recovery can sometimes sound simple:
“Rest.”
“Take time off.”
“Don't worry about work.”
For some people, that is exactly what they need to do.
For others, losing a paycheck can create another serious source of stress.
I had to find a way to protect my income while also learning that I could not spend every available hour working.
Surgery and Chemotherapy Affected Work Differently
When I had major surgery, I used short-term disability.
The benefit replaced approximately 60 percent of my usual pay.
That support gave me time away from work to recover, but it also meant losing about 40 percent of my normal income at the same time my medical expenses were increasing.
During chemotherapy, I remained at work and used schedule flexibility.
That protected more of my income.
It also meant much less recovery time.
Neither choice was easy.
Working During Chemotherapy Is Not Possible for Everyone
Some people can continue working during chemotherapy, while others cannot.
The answer depends on the treatment, side effects, type of work, infection risk, schedule, health conditions, and support available.
The National Cancer Institute notes that some people with cancer continue working during treatment, sometimes with adjustments to their schedules or duties.
A person who continues working is not necessarily stronger than someone who takes leave.
A person who takes leave is not giving up.
Each patient has a different body, job, treatment, financial situation, and medical need.
I had to make decisions based on my circumstances.
Other patients may need completely different solutions.
Doxorubicin Did Not Fit Neatly Into a Workweek
Chemotherapy happened in cycles.
I had the treatment.
Then I waited to see how my body would react.
There were days when symptoms were stronger and days when I could function better.
Appointments could include:
Laboratory work
Oncology visits
Infusions
Port care
Imaging
Primary-care appointments
Follow-up for complications
Those appointments did not always happen outside normal work hours.
I had to place them somewhere inside a week that already contained a full-time job.
Flexible Scheduling Sounded Like the Perfect Solution
On paper, flexible scheduling solved the conflict.
I could attend the appointment and make up the time later.
If I lost several hours during the week, I could work in the evening.
I could use Saturday or Sunday.
I could adjust the beginning or end of the day.
The work still got done.
The appointments still happened.
The arrangement helped me remain employed.
The part missing from that equation was rest.
Work Hours Moved Into Recovery Hours
After treatment, my body needed time.
It needed sleep.
It needed food.
It needed fluids.
It needed relief from nausea, fatigue, pain, and mental fog.
Instead, some of the hours that might have been used for recovery became makeup work.
If I spent part of a weekday at the cancer center, I could not simply erase those work hours.
I moved them.
They often landed on the weekend.
That meant I was technically getting flexibility, but I was not necessarily getting recovery.
That distinction became very important to me.
Stress Became Another Part of the Treatment I Had to Manage
For a long time, I thought of stress as something I simply had to tolerate.
There was work.
There were family responsibilities.
There were household chores.
There were appointments.
There were bills.
There were things I had volunteered to do.
There were things I enjoyed doing.
There were things I felt responsible for doing because I had always done them.
Then I was diagnosed with cancer.
Suddenly, my body had an enormous job to do.
It had to recover from surgery.
It had to tolerate chemotherapy.
It had to rebuild itself.
It had to deal with fatigue and other treatment effects.
And meanwhile, my mind was carrying fear.
I began to understand that reducing unnecessary stress was not about making my life easier just because I was tired. It was about making room for what mattered most.
Stress itself does not cause cancer in any simple, proven way, and reducing stress should never be presented as a cancer cure.
But chronic stress can affect sleep, mood, blood pressure, behavior, relationships, and overall well-being. Cancer treatment can already place enormous physical and emotional demands on a person.
I did not need to add every avoidable burden on top of that.
I Had to Stop Treating Everything as Equally Important
Before cancer, I did a lot of extra things.
I volunteered.
I participated in potlucks at work.
I helped with activities.
I took care of household responsibilities.
I tried to be available to people.
I did things because I enjoyed them.
I did things because I felt responsible.
And I did things because I had gotten used to being the person who handled them.
Cancer forced me to reconsider that.
Not everything that was important before cancer was important enough to consume my limited energy during treatment.
That was difficult for me.
I had to learn that saying no did not make me selfish.
Sometimes it meant I was taking care of myself.
I Started Cutting Back on Household Chores
Some household chores were simply harder on my body than others.
Heavy cleaning.
Lifting.
Bending.
Carrying.
Moving things around.
Tasks that had once been ordinary could become exhausting.
So I began cutting back.
Sometimes I delegated.
Sometimes I postponed something.
Sometimes I did a job in small, slow steps instead of trying to finish it all at once.
And sometimes I simply decided that it did not need to be done right then.
That last one was surprisingly difficult.
There is a difference between a dirty house and an unsafe or unlivable house.
I had to learn to recognize it.
My Friend Glenda Started Giving Me a "Stress Test"
One of the most helpful things during this period came from my friend Glenda.
She calls me several times a week for what we jokingly call a stress test.
It is not a medical test.
It is our way of checking in.
The first part is usually simple:
I vent.
I tell her what is bothering me.
I tell her what I am worried about.
I tell her what is making me angry.
I tell her what feels overwhelming.
Sometimes I repeat something I have already talked about.
Sometimes I just need to say it out loud.
That first part is a lot like what I hope Neighbor Chat can eventually provide—a place where someone can talk without immediately being told what they should do.
Sometimes you need to be heard before you are ready for a solution.
Then Glenda Helps Me Look for the Next Step
After I have had a chance to vent, Glenda and I start looking at the problem.
What can I change?
What can I delegate?
What can wait?
What can I stop doing?
What can someone else handle?
What needs to be done differently?
That part reminds me of what I envision for Next Step Coaching.
The goal is not to tell someone how to live their life.
It is to help take an overwhelming problem and identify one manageable next step.
Sometimes that next step is very small.
Sometimes it is:
Ask someone else to do it.
Sometimes it is:
Quit doing it.
Sometimes it is:
Do it more slowly.
Sometimes it is:
Wait.
Sometimes it is:
Call someone who can help.
And sometimes the answer is simply:
Pray about it and give yourself permission not to solve it tonight.
Sometimes I Delegated
Delegation became one of the most important tools I learned.
I did not have to do every task simply because I had always done it.
If someone else could pick something up, carry something, make a phone call, handle an errand, or take over a responsibility, I could ask.
That sounds simple.
It was not always simple for me.
Many people are accustomed to being the helper.
Being the person who needs help can feel uncomfortable.
Cancer changed that relationship for me.
I had to understand that accepting help was not failure.
It was resource management.
My energy was a resource.
My time was a resource.
My physical strength was a resource.
My emotional capacity was a resource.
I needed to stop spending those resources as though they were unlimited.
Sometimes I Had to Quit Something
This was harder than delegating.
Sometimes there was no one to take over.
Sometimes the activity simply was not worth the energy anymore.
That meant quitting.
Not forever.
Not necessarily because I disliked it.
Sometimes I quit something because that season of my life required something different.
Cancer taught me that stopping something does not mean it was a mistake to start it.
It means circumstances changed.
There are times when quitting is not giving up.
It is making room.
Sometimes I Did Things in Small, Slow Steps
Other things still needed to be done.
So I changed how I did them.
Instead of cleaning the entire room, I might do one part.
Instead of carrying everything at once, I might make several trips.
Instead of trying to finish a project in one afternoon, I might spread it over several days.
Instead of pushing through fatigue because I wanted something finished, I could stop and continue later.
That approach required patience.
I was not accustomed to moving slowly.
But chemotherapy changed what my body could do.
I had to change with it.
Sometimes Glenda Called My Children
There were times when Glenda would call my children and explain how they could help.
That was another kind of support.
Sometimes the patient knows what needs to happen but does not have the energy to coordinate
everyone.
Sometimes family members genuinely want to help but do not know what is needed.
Sometimes a third person can make the request easier.
“Your mother needs help with this.”
“Can you handle that?”
“Can you take this responsibility off her plate?”
That kind of practical coordination can be extremely valuable when the patient is already overwhelmed.
Most Often, I Just Needed to Vent
This may be the most important lesson I learned.
Not every problem needed an immediate solution.
Sometimes I needed to say:
I'm scared.
I'm angry.
I'm overwhelmed.
I don't know what to do.
I don't want to deal with this today.
I'm worried about my children.
I'm worried about my cancer.
I'm worried about money.
I'm tired.
And sometimes I simply needed someone to listen.
There is a difference between being heard and being fixed.
Sometimes being heard is what makes it possible to think clearly enough to decide what comes next.
Sometimes I Needed to Pray
There were also times when I did not need another strategy.
I needed prayer.
I needed to put down the things I could not control.
I needed to talk to God about my fears.
I needed a quiet moment when I was not researching cancer, answering work messages, managing household responsibilities, or trying to solve another problem.
Prayer did not make my medical decisions for me.
It gave me another place to put the fear.
For me, faith became part of how I managed the emotional weight of cancer.
A Weekend Was No Longer a Weekend
Before cancer, a weekend might include errands, household tasks, cooking, family time,
volunteering, or rest.
During chemotherapy, a weekend could become the place where unfinished work hours went.
I might be trying to recover physically while also meeting professional expectations.
I still had household responsibilities.
I still needed to organize appointments and medicines.
The weekend was not automatically available for healing.
It became another working period.
And when I began cutting back on other activities, I realized something:
A calendar can look empty and still leave you exhausted.
Cancer Fatigue Is Not Ordinary Tiredness
Cancer-related fatigue can be physical, emotional, and mental.
It may not improve completely with ordinary sleep and can interfere with daily functioning.
I was not simply tired because I had worked a long day.
My body was processing powerful treatment.
I was healing from surgery.
My blood counts and nutrition were being affected.
Food tasted bad.
I had medical stress, poor sleep, and fear.
Then I asked that same body to continue performing at work.
That was a lot.
Fatigue Affected More Than My Muscles
Fatigue could affect:
Concentration
Memory
Patience
Motivation
Decision-making
Communication
Physical stamina
The ability to sit comfortably
The ability to recover after an appointment
I still had to complete work that required thought and accuracy.
Mental exhaustion mattered just as much as physical weakness.
Cancer-related cognitive problems can also be influenced by treatment, fatigue, stress, pain,
sleep, and other factors.
That is another reason I needed to stop assuming that because I could technically perform a task, I should automatically perform it.
Stress Can Become One More Thing Your Body Has to Carry
I want to be careful here.
I do not believe stress caused my cancer.
And I do not believe that someone can prevent cancer recurrence simply by staying calm.
Cancer is complicated.
But stress can affect sleep, mood, relationships, blood pressure, coping behaviors, and quality of life. Cancer itself creates enormous stress, and treatment can add another layer.
So when I started reducing unnecessary obligations, I was not trying to "stress the cancer away."
I was trying to reduce the number of battles I had to fight at the same time.
I was already fighting cancer.
I did not need to fight every dirty dish, every volunteer obligation, every social commitment, every work demand, and every problem that could wait.
I Had to Learn That Rest Was Productive
Rest used to feel like something I earned after everything else was finished.
During cancer treatment, everything was never going to be finished.
There would always be laundry.
There would always be dishes.
There would always be emails.
There would always be another appointment.
There would always be something that needed attention.
If I waited until everything was done before resting, I would never rest.
So I had to reverse the thinking.
Rest became part of what needed to be scheduled.
Not because rest cures cancer.
It doesn't.
But because my body was doing difficult work, and I needed enough energy to manage treatment and daily life safely.
I Had to Protect My Energy, Not Just My Time
This became one of the biggest changes in how I approached life.
Before cancer, I might ask:
How much time will this take?
After cancer, I learned to ask:
How much energy will this take?
Those are completely different questions.
A fifteen-minute task might leave me exhausted.
A one-hour conversation with someone I love might actually restore me emotionally.
An activity I once enjoyed might suddenly require more energy than I could afford.
Something I could delegate might be easy for someone else but expensive for me physically.
Time was only one part of the calculation.
I Started Looking at My Life Differently
I began sorting activities into categories.
Must Do
Things related to:
Medical care
Safety
Food
Housing
Work responsibilities I could not avoid
Essential family responsibilities
Can Delegate
Things someone else could reasonably handle.
Can Wait
Things that were important but not urgent.
Can Stop
Things that were optional.
Helps Me Recover
Things that gave me peace, comfort, connection, or rest.
That last category was easy to overlook.
But it mattered.
I Cut Back on the Extra Things I Used to Do
I had volunteered.
I participated in workplace potlucks.
I took on extra activities.
I tried to be helpful.
I had household routines that I thought had to continue exactly as before.
Cancer forced me to ask whether those things still belonged in my life at that moment.
Some did.
Some did not.
Some returned later.
Some did not.
That was okay.
Saying No Became a Form of Self-Care
Before cancer, I sometimes thought saying no meant disappointing people.
During treatment, I began to see it differently.
Sometimes saying no meant:
I need the energy for treatment.
Sometimes it meant:
I need to sleep.
Sometimes:
I cannot take that on right now.
Sometimes:
Someone else can do this.
Sometimes:
This simply isn't important enough today.
A person with cancer should not have to apologize for having limits.
Work Was Important, but It Was Not the Only Thing That Mattered
Keeping my job protected my income and gave me a sense of normalcy.
But work could not become the only thing I protected.
I also needed to protect:
Sleep
Nutrition
Medical appointments
Recovery
Family relationships
Emotional health
Time to think
Time to pray
Time to breathe
A flexible schedule helped me keep working.
But I needed flexibility in the rest of my life too.
My Friend Glenda Helped Me Find That Flexibility
Those calls became a kind of pressure-release valve.
First:
Tell me what's wrong.
Then:
What can we do about it?
That order mattered.
If we skipped directly to solutions, I sometimes felt like my fear had not been heard.
If we only vented, I might feel better temporarily but still be stuck with the same problem.
The combination helped.
Listen first. Then look for the next step.
Sometimes there was a solution.
Sometimes there was only a smaller burden.
Sometimes there was nothing we could change.
And sometimes the next step was simply getting through the day.
This Is What I Mean by Neighbor Chat
I want Neighbor Chat to be a place where people can talk about the things that may not fit neatly into a medical appointment.
Your neighbor is driving you crazy.
Your family is arguing.
Your house is overwhelming you.
Your employer is stressing you out.
You are afraid.
You are angry.
You need to vent.
You don't know what to do next.
Sometimes you need someone to listen without judging you.
Sometimes you need help thinking through the problem.
Sometimes you need to hear yourself say the problem out loud.
Not every conversation needs to end with a five-step plan.
Sometimes you just need a neighbor.
This Is Also Why I Think Next Step Coaching Matters
There are problems that feel enormous because they are actually ten smaller problems tangled together.
A coaching conversation can help separate them.
What is urgent?
What can wait?
What can be delegated?
What can be eliminated?
Who can help?
What is one thing you can do today?
The goal is not to take control away from someone.
It is to help them find their own next step.
For me, sometimes the next step was a phone call.
Sometimes it was asking my children for help.
Sometimes it was canceling something.
Sometimes it was doing one small household task.
Sometimes it was going to bed.
A Support Person Can Help Protect Your Energy
My experience with Glenda also changed how I think about support.
A support person does not always need to drive you to chemotherapy.
They may not need to attend every appointment.
Sometimes their job is emotional.
Sometimes it is practical.
Sometimes it is simply checking in.
A support person might ask:
What is stressing you today?
Then:
What can we take off your plate?
That can be more useful than asking:
What do you need?
When someone is overwhelmed, they may not know how to answer that question.
I Had to Stop Trying to Solve Everything Alone
Cancer had already taught me that I could not control everything.
I could not control the diagnosis.
I could not control every scan.
I could not control every treatment response.
I could not control every side effect.
I could not control other people's behavior.
But I could sometimes control how much I took on.
That was a powerful distinction.
I could not remove every source of stress.
I could reduce some of them.
Working From Home Did Not Eliminate Stress
Telework gave me an important advantage.
I did not have to commute.
I could work from home.
I could adjust my hours.
But it also made it easy for work to expand into every corner of the day.
There was no physical boundary between:
work time
and
home time
unless I created one.
When you are sick, that boundary becomes even more important.
Logging off is not always enough.
Sometimes you have to deliberately stop.
My Workday Did Not End When I Logged Off
After work, I still had cancer-related tasks.
There were medicines to take.
Appointments to confirm.
Food to manage.
Medical records to organize.
Bills to review.
Symptoms to track.
Calls to return.
Household responsibilities remained.
The end of paid work did not mark the beginning of true rest.
That was one reason I eventually had to start cutting things out.
There simply were not enough hours—and more importantly, not enough energy.
I Was Working Two Jobs
One job paid me.
The other was surviving cancer.
The cancer job included:
Attending treatment
Recovering
Tracking symptoms
Managing medicines
Coordinating doctors
Handling insurance
Maintaining nutrition
Monitoring complications
Researching questions
Arranging help
Both jobs were demanding.
Only one appeared on my employment record.
And then there was a third job nobody had assigned to me:
Managing the rest of life.
That was the one I had to start reducing.
The Cost of Stress Is Not Always Visible
People can see chemotherapy.
They can see a shaved head.
They may see someone using a wheelchair or walking slowly.
Stress is different.
They may not see:
The worry before a scan
Fear about the future
Family conflict
Financial pressure
Workplace anxiety
Household responsibilities
Fear of recurrence
The mental effort of making medical decisions
The exhaustion of constantly thinking about what happens next
A person can look calm while carrying an enormous amount internally.
That is why having someone to talk to matters.
I Needed a Place Where I Did Not Have to Be Strong
Cancer patients hear a lot about strength.
Be strong.
Stay positive.
Keep fighting.
You can do this.
I understand the good intentions behind those words.
But sometimes I did not want to be strong.
Sometimes I wanted to say:
This is hard.
I'm scared.
I'm tired.
I don't know what comes next.
I need help.
Being honest about those feelings did not make me less determined to survive.
It made me human.
Reducing Stress Does Not Mean Eliminating Every Problem
That would be impossible.
Life does not become peaceful simply because someone has cancer.
There may still be:
Family disagreements
Financial problems
Work deadlines
Housing issues
Transportation problems
Medical bills
Household repairs
Difficult neighbors
Parenting concerns
Relationship problems
The goal is not necessarily to eliminate every problem.
Sometimes the goal is to reduce the number of problems you are personally carrying.
What I Learned About Stress During Cancer Treatment
I learned that I could ask:
Does this really need to be done?
Does it have to be done by me?
Does it have to be done today?
Can someone else help?
Can I do it more slowly?
Can I quit it for now?
What happens if I say no?
What would give me more peace today?
Those questions became surprisingly powerful.
What I Wish Someone Had Told Me
I wish someone had told me that cancer treatment would require more than medical appointments.
I wish someone had told me to look at everything consuming my energy.
I wish I had understood earlier that stress reduction is not about pretending problems do not exist.
It is about deciding which problems deserve your limited energy.
I wish someone had told me that delegating household work was not weakness.
I wish someone had told me that quitting a volunteer activity temporarily did not mean I had become a bad person.
I wish someone had told me that I could let the house be less perfect.
I wish someone had told me that sometimes the healthiest answer is:
Not today.
And I wish someone had told me that sometimes the most important thing you can do is tell someone how scared you are and let them listen.
Hope for Today
I worked through doxorubicin chemotherapy.
My employer gave me flexibility.
That flexibility helped me protect my income.
But I eventually realized that flexible work hours did not create more energy.
The hours had to come from somewhere.
Sometimes they came from sleep.
Sometimes they came from weekends.
Sometimes they came from household responsibilities.
And sometimes they came from me.
I had to learn to protect the energy my body needed.
I stopped doing some things.
I delegated others.
I did some tasks slowly.
I let some things wait.
I talked to my friend Glenda.
I vented.
We looked for solutions.
Sometimes she called my children and helped them understand how they could help me.
And sometimes I simply needed to pray.
Cancer taught me that fighting does not always mean doing more.
Sometimes fighting means doing less of what does not matter so you can have more energy for what does.
There is no prize for keeping a perfect house while receiving chemotherapy.
There is no medal for volunteering when your body is exhausted.
There is no requirement to attend every potluck, answer every request, or solve every family problem.
Your body is already doing something enormous.
Give yourself permission to protect it.
Frequently Asked Questions
Does stress cause cancer?
The relationship between stress and cancer is complicated. Stress has not been established as a simple direct cause of cancer. However, cancer and cancer treatment can create substantial stress, and chronic stress can affect sleep, mood, blood pressure, coping behaviors, and overall quality of life.
Reducing stress should not be presented as a substitute for cancer treatment.
Can stress affect someone during cancer treatment?
Cancer treatment can be physically and emotionally stressful. Stress may affect sleep, concentration, mood, relationships, and a person's ability to manage daily responsibilities.
Supportive care can help patients cope with these challenges.
Should cancer patients stop working to reduce stress?
Not necessarily. Some people need or want to continue working, while others need medical leave. The appropriate decision depends on the treatment, symptoms, job, financial circumstances, medical advice, and available workplace accommodations.
How can I reduce unnecessary stress during cancer treatment?
Consider asking:
What can I delegate?
What can wait?
What can I stop doing?
What can someone else handle?
Can I simplify the task?
Do I really need to do this today?
Reducing unnecessary responsibilities can create more room for rest and recovery.
Is it okay to stop volunteering during cancer treatment?
Yes. Volunteering can be meaningful, but it is also a commitment. During intensive treatment, you may need to temporarily reduce or stop activities that consume energy.
That does not mean you have stopped caring about other people.
What if I feel guilty asking my family for help?
Many people struggle with this. Try asking for one specific task instead of saying, “I need help.”
For example:
“Can you pick up my prescription?”
“Can you handle the laundry this week?”
“Can you take me to my appointment?”
Specific requests can make it easier for family members to respond.
What if I mostly need someone to listen?
That is okay.
Not every difficult situation needs immediate advice.
Sometimes talking through fear, anger, grief, or frustration with a trusted person can help you feel less alone and make it easier to decide what to do next.
Is prayer a form of stress management?
For people who practice a faith tradition, prayer may provide comfort, meaning, connection, and a way to process fear. It should complement—not replace—appropriate medical and mental-health care.
What is Neighbor Chat?
Neighbor Chat is intended as a relaxed space for conversation and peer support. Sometimes people need to vent, talk through a problem, or simply have someone listen.
It does not replace medical care, counseling, crisis services, or professional advice.
What is Next Step Coaching?
Next Step Coaching is intended to help people break overwhelming situations into manageable next steps.
That might involve identifying what can be delegated, what can wait, what can be stopped, and what needs attention first.
It does not replace medical, legal, employment, financial, or mental-health professionals.
Support on Your Journey
Cancer does not happen in isolation.
It happens while people are working, raising families, managing homes, dealing with money, caring for pets, maintaining relationships, and trying to make sense of an uncertain future.
Sometimes the stress becomes almost as overwhelming as the original problem.
That is why I believe support needs to include the whole person.
Surviving Life Lessons Community Groups are being formed so patients, survivors, caregivers, and families can talk about the parts of life that do not always fit into a medical appointment.
Sometimes you need to delegate.
Sometimes you need to quit.
Sometimes you need to slow down.
Sometimes you need to pray.
And sometimes you simply need someone to say:
“I hear you. Let's figure out what comes next.”
Find Your Community
No one should have to face life's challenges alone. At Surviving Life Lessons, we believe in life survivors helping life strugglers. Explore our growing Community Groups to connect with others who understand your journey, share encouragement, and find hope through meaningful conversations. You'll also have the opportunity to introduce yourself and share your own story of overcoming. Your story matters. It may be the encouragement someone else needs to keep moving forward, reminding them that they are not alone and that hope is always possible.
Your Story Matters
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Drop a comment, Say Hello, and join the conversation.
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References
National Cancer Institute. “Stress and Cancer.”https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping/feelings/stress-fact-sheet
National Cancer Institute. “Fatigue and Cancer.”https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/treatment/side-effects/fatigue
National Cancer Institute. “Coping with Cancer.”https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping
National Cancer Institute. “Daily Life During Cancer.”https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping/day-to-day
National Cancer Institute. “Keep Up with Your Daily Routine.”https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping/day-to-day/daily-routine
National Cancer Institute. “Family Issues after Treatment.”https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/coping/survivorship/family-issues
American Cancer Society. “Stress Management.”https://www.cancer.org/cancer/managing-cancer/side-effects/stress.html
American Cancer Society. “Working During Cancer Treatment.”https://www.cancer.org/cancer/supportive-care/working-during-cancer-treatment.html
American Cancer Society. “Therapy, Counseling, and Support Resources for People with Cancer.”https://www.cancer.org/cancer/supportive-care/therapy-counseling-and-support-resources.html
About the Author:
Deborah Ann Martin is the founder of Surviving Life Lessons, a published author, poet, speaker, and trainer with over 20 years of management experience across multiple industries. An MBA graduate, U.S. veteran, single mother, and rare cancer survivor, Deborah brings both professional expertise and lived experience to her writing on resilience, leadership, personal growth, and overcoming adversity. Her mission is to empower others with practical wisdom and real-life insight to navigate life’s challenges with strength and purpose.






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