Puja Thomson, counselor, healing facilitator, educator, and minister, has a newly-released book -- After Shock: From Cancer Diagnosis to Healing: A step-by-step guide to help you navigate your way -- that is just perfect for just about anyone dealing with cancer.Thomson, surviving her own bout with cancer, offers practical suggestions to help others clarify their cancer journeys in this book that features topics such as reaching out for help, designing your own personal wellness program, crafting challenges into hopeful perspectives, and organizing financial records and medical paperwork in simple ways.
Thomson shares her own firsthand stories and borrows reflections from other fellow cancer travelers. She offers a well-balanced sampling of ideas from which readers can pick and choose as they create their navigation plans. She does it all because she knows cancer can come as a shock. She also knows life goes on after the shock.


Adriene Hughes was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after her 44th year of living. She found her lump after participating in a 5K walk, which for some reason, caused her breast to swell. The swelling led her to the lump -- and that's how she discovered her cancer. Adriene lives in Southern California, works as a media specialist, and spends her time taking photographs, knitting, and baking cookies and breads.
After my breast cancer diagnosis, I received endless offers from friends and family who offered to help me. I was offered meals, babysitting, errands, escorts to appointments, and two faraway friends even told me they would hop on a plane in an instant to come stay with me. I accepted a tiny bit of help -- like a meal here and there and a morning of babysitting -- but I really did not want much assistance. Mostly because I am do-it-myself type of person and however unhealthy this can be -- especially in the midst of a health crisis -- I wanted my life to remain as normal as possible. And if that meant taking care of my kids, despite nausea and fatigue, I wanted to do it. I wanted to be the one in the driver's seat on my way to treatments and procedures. And I wanted to run my own errands. Part of me believed that accepting help meant I was really sick. And I couldn't admit that. Yet it was true. I was sick. I needed help.
The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has issued a
Men diagnosed with breast cancer -- it doesn't happen often, but it happens. 







