Crisis Text Line : Text HOME to 741741 for free 24/7 support. A breast cancer diagnosis is more than a physical challenge—it’s an emotional one, too. Fear, anxiety, and uncertainty can be overwhelming, often leading to distress or depression. It’s okay to feel scared or frustrated, but remember that you don’t have to face it alone. Support from loved ones, counseling, and peer-to-peer groups  can make all the difference. Understanding the Link Between Breast Cancer and Mental Health Emotional Toll of a Diagnosis A breast cancer diagnosis can be overwhelming. Feelings of fear, uncertainty, and sadness are common, especially in the early stages of diagnosis and treatment planning. If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Studies show that nearly 25% of breast cancer patients experience clinical depression , while up to 50% report heightened anxiety  at some point. Effects of Treatment on Mental Health Cancer treatments such as chemotherapy, radiation, and hormonal therapy can contribute to mood changes . Side effects like fatigue , hormonal fluctuations, and chronic pain  may increase your feelings of helplessness and distress. Talk to your doctor to learn whether any of your prescribed medications may also impact your mental health. Survivor’s Guilt and Fear of Recurrence As breast cancer survivors, many of us experience guilt about surviving  while others do not. Additionally, the fear of recurrence can lead to persistent anxiety, making it challenging for you to enjoy post-treatment life. Maybe you’ve experienced “scanxiety,” or high stress levels before your oncology follow-ups and scans. Recognizing Signs of Depression and Anxiety As someone experiencing breast cancer treatment, survivorship, and/or living with metastatic breast cancer, you can team up with your caregivers and oncology team to recognize signs of clinical depression and anxiety disorders. Some common signs include: Persistent sadness, hopelessness, or numbness Loss of interest in activities you once enjoyed Sleep disturbances (insomnia or excessive sleeping) Changes in your appetite or weight Fatigue that doesn’t improve with rest Increased irritability, anger, or frustration Difficulty concentrating or making decisions Feelings of worthlessness or excessive guilt Panic attacks or constant worrying about your health and the future If you experience these symptoms for over two weeks, seeking professional support is essential. 5 Strategies for Addressing Mental Health Challenges 1. Seek Professional Help Psychologists, psychiatrists, and oncology social workers specialize in cancer-related mental health challenges. Therapy options like cognitive behavioral therapy   (CBT) have been proven effective in managing depression and anxiety in people experiencing breast cancer. If you have severe symptoms, your healthcare team may recommend antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications  alongside therapy. It’s important to discuss medication options with your entire oncology team as well as mental health professionals to avoid interactions with your cancer treatments. 2. Build a Support Network Social support plays a significant role in mental well-being. Connecting with support groups   can provide emotional relief and shared experiences, which can help individuals feel less isolated. Join SurvivingBreastCancer.org  every Thursday for breast cancer support groups, including special meetups for metastatic breast cancer, early stage breast cancer, and inflammatory breast cancer: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/thursday-night-thrivers-meetup 3. Incorporate Mind-Body Practices Research supports the benefits of yoga , meditation , and mindfulness practices in reducing stress and improving mood among people with breast cancer. These activities can offer relief from emotional distress. Join SurvivingBreastCancer.org  for our numerous yoga, Pilates, meditation, writing, and art programs: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/events 4. Maintain Physical Activity Engaging in regular physical activity, even in small amounts, has been shown to reduce symptoms of depression and anxiety in cancer patients .   The American Cancer Society recommends at least 150 minutes of moderate weekly exercise to improve overall well-being. 5. Practice Self-Compassion Being kind to yourself is essential . Adjusting to life with or after breast cancer takes time, and it’s okay to have difficult days. Journaling, engaging in creative outlets, and resting can help cultivate a positive mental outlook. Breaking the Stigma Around Mental Health and Cancer Many people with cancer hesitate to talk about their mental health struggles due to stigma. However, mental health is just as important as physical health . Advocacy and awareness can help change this narrative. If you or a loved one are experiencing depression or anxiety due to breast cancer, reaching out for help is a sign of strength, not weakness . Count On Us for Information, Resources, and Support  Breast cancer and mental health are deeply interconnected. Recognizing and addressing depression and anxiety  is a crucial part of holistic cancer care. By seeking support, incorporating wellness strategies, and advocating for mental health awareness, you can improve your emotional well-being and overall quality of life. Remember, you’re not alone. Rely on your healthcare team, loved ones, and support networks like SurvivingBreastCancer.org  to help you through this time. Whether you’re newly diagnosed with breast cancer , are navigating survivorship, living with metastatic breast cancer, or are the loved one of someone experiencing breast cancer, you can count on SurvivingBreastCancer.org to keep you informed. We provide educational information to help you better understand symptoms , testing, treatment options , surgery, etc., and podcasts  that feature professionals, advocates, and caregivers who share valuable information. Your donations  enable SurvivingBreastCancer.org , a community dedicated to empowering those affected by breast cancer, with knowledge, understanding, and a network of care, to offer resources and support every day, every month, and every year.  Crisis Text Line : Text HOME to 741741 for free 24/7 support. Note: This article offers general information and does not replace professional medical advice. Make sure to discuss your options with your healthcare provider. Read More: The Psychological Impact of Breast Cancer: Strategies for Coping Managing Fatigue During Breast Cancer Treatment Survivor’s Guilt and Metastatic Breast Cancer The Impact of Breast Cancer on Self-Image On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Why Every Breast Cancer Survivor Should Try Pilates with Guest Nina Prol Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

By Elizabeth Brodbine Ghoniem I was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of years ago; I was sixty-six. Was I surprised? Not really; I’d already had two other breast cancer scares. “Third time’s a charm” didn’t apply. Or perhaps it did. One oncologist called me “lucky.”  They discovered the cancer early. It had not spread . Only surgery followed by radiation would be necessary—no chemotherapy. There would be medication to take for five years, but I could worry about that later.  It started with my annual mammogram. The radiologist found suspicious activity in my left breast. Unlike the calcifications she was already watching, these new masses had jagged edges (pleomorphic). The next step would be a stereotactic biopsy. Since I had had two biopsies before, I thought it was no big deal. But the radiologist kept looking at me suspiciously, repeatedly asking if I had any questions. That should have been my first clue. Later, I decided to look it up online. Only a man could have designed this process. Yes, it is exacting, but imagine you are lying face down on a specialized table with your breast hanging through a hole, your head to one side, your arms fixed over your head. You’re told to hold still for 20 to 30 minutes, while your breast is squeezed like a lemon until the last drop of juice. Then the doctor inserts a needle to suction a sample, and inserts clips to mark the location of the area in question.  It was the worst mammogram I’ve ever had.  Apparently, patients used to sit in a chair for this, but many passed out, so now they opt for a table. Improvement? Really?  I searched online and found one vendor’s website showcasing the device. The patient and doctor were smiling; they appeared  happy (before the procedure?). The process was described as “comfortable patient access.” That should have been my second clue.  After all, the company sells to doctors, not to patients like me.  Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for advancements in technology that allow doctors to discover cancers much earlier and save lives—mine included. But perhaps the same efforts that our tech billionaires put into launching rockets to Mars could be redirected to fund development of better, more patient-friendly diagnostic machines, instead of this medieval torture device. Maybe then, fewer women would avoid mammograms, and we’d have fewer late-stage diagnoses. The call came while I was on Zoom with my writing group. I muted the meeting and left the room. A nurse had the unfortunate task of delivering the results: cancer. My hands shook. Even though I had prepared myself for the diagnosis, it was still shocking. Fortunately, my husband was home. He stood beside me as the nurse rattled off: DCIS, grade 3, ER+.  The ductal carcinoma in situ  (DCIS) diagnosis meant that it had not spread outside the ducts in the breast. It was grade 3—meaning how different it was from other cells within the grading system of 1-3, with three being the worst, and was estrogen-receptor positive (ER+), indicating that estrogen was feeding the cancer. We didn’t know enough to probe  beyond “what’s next?”  We met with the surgeon the next day, who explained more. The plan: breast-conserving surgery—aka lumpectomy—followed by radiation, and then hormone reduction therapy. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer . Because of that awful statistic, I was able to reach out to friends and family who had breast cancer, including my younger sister. Everyone assured me that it would be okay. After all, everyone was still alive 7 and 10 years after the diagnoses and treatments. Even my doctor friends, including a retired breast surgeon, were quick to reassure. They had caught the cancer early. I was “lucky.” Surgery was routine. The only annoyance. No exercise for three weeks. My excellent surgeon insisted upon that multiple times. Please don’t get the impression that I’m an exercise nut because I’m not. But this was summer, and I vowed to get back into shape. Kayaking? Not allowed. Swimming? Off the table. Even walking longer than a couple of miles was discouraged. My husband, normally a drill sergeant, insisted on joining me for any walks. Instead of “walk faster, you’re too slow” I got “too far, turn around.”  I may have sneaked in a few extra steps. Just don’t tell him. Thanks to a ruling from President Obama’s administration, the medical profession must release test results as they become available. Helpful? Yes. Scary? Absolutely.  My phone pinged with my surgical pathology report . Of course, I had to look: 2mm margins, DCIS with solid and cribriform types (intermediate grade) with necrosis. Two pages of results that I did not understand. I searched online and found an article by the American Breast Cancer Foundation and tried to decode my fate while I waited for the doctor’s call. Thanks to my care team, the doctor’s office called shortly after. Another surgery was not needed; they had gotten all the cancer. The margins were clear, at least 2mm. I guess I missed the pre-surgery discussion of potentially more than one surgery. At least it was irrelevant. But what about the other results: necrosis, tubular, a decrease from grade 3 to grade 2? Did this mean I could skip radiation?  Two days later my husband and I met with the radiation oncologist. During the exam, the doctor remarked on how my anatomy was ideally suited for radiation; she liked the separation of my breasts. Should I be flattered?  Radiation, like chemotherapy, is meant to kill any remaining cancer cells to reduce the risk of migration and recurrence. But nothing comes without risks. All I could think of was Marie Curie, the first woman to win the Nobel Prize for her breakthrough research on the chemistry of radioactive substances. She had died from too much radiation exposure.  I wasn’t Marie Curie, and this wasn’t the early 1900s. But when you are told that radiation will be beamed into your body to kill cells, wouldn’t you also worry?  The doctor understood my hesitancy. A new test, DCISionRT, could be done to determine my individualized risk for recurrence and benefit from radiation. “Tests are good,” my husband uttered. Unlike our first call, he had come prepared with questions. He did not earn his PhD and become a professor at MIT without his fair share of research. “Just one more question,” he said and asked a slew more, which the doctor patiently answered.   The results from this new test would take two weeks. In the meantime, I was stuck in limbo, unable to plan my future. The doctor understood and agreed to schedule our next appointment as if we were moving forward with radiation while we awaited the results. This was prophetic because, sure enough, I was at high risk for recurrence, and radiation would reduce that risk by more than half.  To prepare for radiation, you first undergo mapping. This process is conducted using a CT/simulator, which scans and maps the breast area to be targeted and the areas to be blocked (your heart and lungs). Tattoos are applied in strategic locations; these are small freckle-sized markings that the radiation technicians will use to align your body during radiation therapy. I have four of these: one on my left side, one on my right side, one in the middle of my front, and the last in the middle of my back, all aligned with my breasts. This involves a pin prick into the skin. It was uncomfortable but certainly tolerable. However, I will forgo getting any decorative tattoos, as I can only imagine how this multiplied by 10,000 pin pricks would feel. I leave that to others. After the mapping session, the team—the radiation oncologist, physicist, dosimetrist, radiation technicians, and nurses—meets to discuss the optimal dose and transmission of the radiating beams, as well as your position during treatment, whether you will be prone or supine.  I don’t know why I struggle with the terms “prone” and “supine.” I know that one means lying with your face down and the other with your face up, but I get tripped up sometimes. It’s like when someone says to lift your left arm and you lift your right one instead. I was interested in the etymology of the terms. It beats searching for something about cancer.  “Prone” originates from Latin pronus , meaning to bend forward, lean forward, bend over—your face not up. “Supine” originates from the Latin supinus , meaning lying on the back, bending backward, obviously face up. Yet I’m not alone in my confusion. James Joyce in Ulysses writes:  “ He lies prone , his face to the sky, his hat rolling to the wall.” And, I wonder if Flannery O’Connor was equally confused or just wanted to be ambiguous when she wrote in one of her letters: “I too have been prone  on my couch this week, a victim of the common cold.” Wouldn’t you visualize someone lying on their back, face up?  A week after the mapping, on a Friday, I had my pre-treatment session, which included the team’s decision on my treatment. I would have eighteen radiation sessions, Monday through Friday, with weekends off. For sixteen sessions I would be prone, my left breast hanging down through an opening in the table. It sounds awful but really it’s not that bad. Unlike the stereotactic biopsy, your breast hangs free—no compression. For the last two sessions, I would be supine for a “cone down,” the radiation field narrowed for an extra boost, not necessarily a higher dose.  The radiation technicians—always two, sometimes three—introduced me to the linear accelerator. You can undoubtedly research this machine, which I did, but simplistically it is the device that beams the radiation on you. The technicians had me lie prone on the x-ray table, aligning my body to the exact position recommended for treatment, and took additional pictures. All of this was recorded, and the machine was programmed to know exactly where to radiate its beams. Radiation treatments would begin the following Monday. The doctors and staff thoroughly explained the process, discussing in detail the short- and long-term side effects; none were serious, except for those rare instances that occur only once in a million. I wouldn’t go there. The sessions would take no more than fifteen minutes from start to finish. I asked if it hurt. They said it wouldn’t, but I’ve been given that same answer before and I was skeptical. I thought I had a high level of tolerance for pain until experiencing excruciating pain during a dental visit. The dentist, now my former  dentist, said Novocaine was unnecessary as she yanked off a temporary cap to replace it with a permanent one. “It will only take twenty minutes,” she said as she continued to yank away, and I gripped tighter and tighter to the side of the chair. Twenty minutes turned into two hours. Finally, she asked if the cap fit okay. I lied. No way was I going to let her continue and no way was I going back. So yes, I was skeptical when the radiation oncologist assured me it would not hurt. Day 1 came the following Monday. I was petrified, and I didn’t sleep the night before. It also didn’t help that my appointment was during rush hour, it was raining intermittently, and it was the first full week of school. Traffic couldn’t have been worse. Waze kept redirecting me and I eventually gave up and ignored their instructions. My husband was in a separate car on the phone, trying to calm me, assuring me that they would wait for me if I were late. Assuring, another word that was becoming all too familiar. Its meaning: to make sure or certain. At least that was true; I made it to the lab with two minutes to spare.  I was greeted warmly by the receptionist, nurse, and the two radiation technicians whom I had met the previous Friday. I changed into a lovely blue waist-length gown and looked back at my husband, who seemed more anxious than me as the technicians led me away. Tossing off my sandals and the gown, I climbed onto the table, lay face down (prone) and started breathing deeply. The technicians guided my body in place, smoothing down my shoulder blades, asking me to “relax my shoulders.” Okay, really! I am lying half-naked face down on a table in a freezing room, where there is a big machine hovering above me, and I am supposed to relax. Yes, they kindly gave me warm blankets for my lower body and arms, but I was still cold, and my claustrophobia was getting the better of me—more deep breathing. After the technicians assure me I am in the exact position, the machine is lowered and positioned inches away from my body. The technicians leave the room.  Moments later, I hear noises, some clicks and then a louder, longer, screeching sound. I try yogic breathing. In for ten and out for ten, but it feels more like the beginning of hyperventilation. The machine rotates across my body. More clicking and again longer, screeching sounds. Then it’s over. The doctor was right: no pain. I learned the screeching sounds were the radiation beams doing their job, one side and then the other. Fifteen minutes later, I am dressed and on my way home. And just in case you were wondering, I am not radioactive. Note to self: next time wear socks. Day 2. After battling with my husband over when to leave—he’s known for barely making flights—I win, and we leave about fifteen minutes earlier, which makes a huge difference. Same routine. I jump on the table, this time wearing socks. Warm blankets, of course, and the machine moves around me. There’s no pain, but later that day, I felt some twitching in my breasts. I visualized red, androgynous figures, swords and shields raised, battling the beams as they came in, struggling to survive and proliferate.  Day 3. My husband and I arrive early. Treatment is delayed. The server is down. Did the warriors win? We meet with the radiation oncologist. My husband raises the concern about the twitching in my breasts. She assures us that the twitching is likely a remnant of surgery and could last days, months, or even years. But what if she is wrong, and there are truly cancerous warriors inside me, battling to survive as I fought to rid myself of them?  Later that day, I received a call: the server was up. Could I return for my treatment? The warriors better be prepared because the radiation beam was coming for them again. Treatments went smoothly after that, but my mind still came up with all sorts of conspiracy theories as I lay there being beamed down upon. Besides the little red warriors—I still believe they do exist—I lay there wondering what would happen if one of the technicians moved the beam to my eyes, blinding me or my brain and wiping out all my memories. Of course, none of this happened, but my strongest recommendation is not to binge-watch four seasons of Stranger Things  while undergoing treatments. Radiation is over. I can return to my routine—whatever that even means now. Cancer changes you. Even though my prognosis is excellent – 97-99% survival rate, I realize that life will end at some point. I still hesitate before making plans too far in advance, and I find myself analyzing every ache and wondering. However, I also buy that ridiculously expensive dress I’ve been coveting in the store or that perfectly matching necklace. I don’t wait for “the special occasion.” Life itself is the occasion. Read More: Understanding the Different Stages of Breast Cancer: What You Need to Know Ductal Carcinoma in Situ (“Stage Zero” Breast Cancer): What You Need To Know Empowering Yourself: Questions to Ask Your Doctor After a Breast Cancer Diagnosis Understanding Your Pathology Report: A Comprehensive Step-By-Step Guide On the Podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations Understanding Nurse Navigation: Support and Resources for Cancer Patients Share your story, poetry, or art: https://www.survivingbreastcancer.org/submit-breast-cancer-story SurvivingBreastCancer.org Resources & Support: Podcast Weekly Meetup s Free Events

In the world of fitness and cancer rehabilitation, Pilates has emerged as a powerful tool for healing — especially for those navigating life during and after a breast cancer diagnosis. Known for improving core strength and flexibility, Pilates also supports emotional resilience and provides a gentle, effective path back to physical activity. This blog explores how Pilates supports breast cancer recovery, promotes mobility, and offers a holistic mind-body approach to wellness. Listen on the podcast: Breast Cancer Conversations. What Every Breast Cancer Survivor Needs to Know About Pilates What Is Pilates? Originally developed by Joseph Pilates in the early 20th century, Pilates is a low-impact exercise method that focuses on core engagement, controlled movement, and mindful breathing. It draws inspiration from yoga, physical therapy, and bodyweight training, making it safe and adaptable for all fitness levels—including those recovering from illness or surgery. What sets Pilates apart is its focus on the "powerhouse"—the deep core muscles, including the abdominals, lower back, hips, and glutes. A strong core supports balance, posture, and overall stability, all of which can be compromised during cancer treatment. How Pilates Builds Strength After Cancer Unlike traditional strength training that often isolates large muscle groups, Pilates builds functional strength by engaging multiple muscle groups simultaneously —including the often-overlooked stabilizing muscles. Exercises like The Hundred , Leg Circles , and The Teaser  not only target the abs but also activate the arms, legs, and back for a full-body, integrated workout. For breast cancer survivors and thrivers, who may experience muscle atrophy, fatigue, or limited range of motion following surgery or radiation, Pilates provides a gentle, effective way to rebuild strength without overexertion. It emphasizes quality over quantity, making it accessible even for those managing chronic pain or just beginning to reintroduce movement into their routine. Increasing Flexibility Through Pilates Flexibility loss is a common side effect of both cancer treatments and prolonged inactivity. Pilates helps restore range of motion with gentle stretches, spinal mobility exercises, and postural alignment. Movements like Spine Stretch Forward , The Saw , and Mermaid Stretch  lengthen muscles and open up tight areas, promoting better movement and comfort. For breast cancer patients, especially those who have undergone lymph node removal or mastectomies, this type of mindful stretching can help alleviate tightness, scar tissue discomfort, and joint stiffness, offering a safe way to regain confidence in their bodies. The Mind-Body Connection: A Holistic Approach to Healing Beyond the physical benefits, Pilates encourages mindfulness, emotional grounding, and stress relief—all essential during cancer recovery. Focusing on breath and alignment helps practitioners reconnect with their bodies after trauma or treatment. In a recent episode of Breast Cancer Conversations , podcast host and survivor Laura Carfang explored how movement became a lifeline during her own recovery. She emphasized that Pilates is more than just exercise—it’s an act of self-compassion and a tool to reclaim agency during a time when the body can feel unfamiliar or out of control. Building Community Through Movement Many cancer survivors find Pilates classes—whether in-person or virtual—to be a source of community and support. Moving together, sharing progress, and being seen in a safe space can boost motivation and emotional resilience. This shared experience helps reduce feelings of isolation and encourages regular practice. Whether it’s a local class or a free virtual session offered by nonprofits like SurvivingBreastCancer.org , movement becomes a gateway to connection, healing, and hope. Final Thoughts: Pilates as a Path to Empowerment Pilates is more than a workout—it’s a pathway to healing, strength, and flexibility for those living with and beyond cancer. With its gentle approach, focus on breath and control, and deep physical and emotional benefits, Pilates offers survivors a way to rebuild their bodies and reclaim their lives. Whether you're newly diagnosed, in treatment, or years into survivorship, Pilates can meet you where you are—empowering you to move with grace, strength, and purpose.

There are so many ways you can help someone diagnosed with breast cancer. Donate Now Start A Fundraiser Your Actions Give Hope Education Request Brochures Request brochures to distribute in your local community, in the schools, at health fairs, or at your doctor's offices. Spread the Word Contact Us Too many people are diagnosed with breast cancer year over year. No one needs to suffer alone. Help spread the word about our community, programs and free services and how you can start an SBC chapter in your area. Attend A Health Fair Let's Chat Volunteer to represent SBC at an upcoming health fair in your area! Become a Peer Advocate Contact Us Join our volunteer team of breast cancer advocates. Advocates provide necessary peer to peer support to SBC members who are newly diagnosed. Volunteer or Intern with SBC If you are a College or Graduate student, you may be eligible to earn credit for your internship with SBC. When applying to a role, please be sure to mention you are interested in earning credit and we'll set up time to speak with you about the process! Your experience becomes someone else's guidebook! Pay it forward. Share your experience. Help to develop local resources in your area for the SBC community! Contact Us Become a local SBC ambassador You Are An Expert Of Your Own Experience

About Our Organization SurvivingBreastCancer.org is a supportive community dedicated to offering guidance, comfort, and resources for individuals navigating the challenges of breast cancer. Our platform provides a safe space for sharing experiences, seeking advice, and finding solace in a community of understanding individuals. Join us in the fight against breast cancer today. Join Support Groups Family Support Our one-on-one support provides individualized guidance and emotional assistance. Family support encourages involvement and understanding. Online forums foster a sense of community. Local meetups offer face-to-face connections. Workshops and events provide education and empowerment. Discover Online Forums With a focus on individual needs, our support groups aim to create a supportive environment. Personalized assistance, family involvement, online connections, local community meetups, and educational workshops form the core of our support services. Engage Local Meetups We emphasize the importance of tailored support for each member. From one-on-one sessions to family involvement, online resources, local gatherings, and educational events, we strive to address the diverse needs of our community. Participate Workshops & Events Join our various support groups to connect, share, and learn. From personalized assistance to family engagement, online interactions, local meetups, and informative events, our platform offers a holistic approach to support. Join Now Educational Resources Access our range of educational resources designed to inform and empower. From articles and videos to expert advice and toolkits, we provide valuable information to aid in your breast cancer journey. Learn Videos Share your feature information here to attract new clients. Provide a brief summary to help visitors understand the context and background, and add details about what makes this feature significant. Expert Advice Share your feature information here to attract new clients. Provide a brief summary to help visitors understand the context and background, and add details about what makes this feature significant. Toolkits Share your feature information here to attract new clients. Provide a brief summary to help visitors understand the context and background, and add details about what makes this feature significant. Guides Share your feature information here to attract new clients. Provide a brief summary to help visitors understand the context and background, and add details about what makes this feature significant. Community Events Local Workshops Stay informed about our upcoming gatherings and participate in local workshops aimed at providing support and education. Join our educational seminars to enhance your knowledge and engage in our awareness campaigns and fundraising events. Join Educational Seminars Engage with our community through local workshops, educational seminars, awareness initiatives, and fundraising events. Stay connected, learn, and contribute to the fight against breast cancer by participating in our diverse range of activities. Participate Awareness Campaigns Participate in our local workshops, educational seminars, awareness events, and fundraising activities to connect with others, gain knowledge, and support our cause. Join us in our mission to raise awareness and funds for breast cancer support. Engage Fundraising Events Discover a range of community events that offer support, education, and advocacy opportunities. From local workshops to educational seminars, awareness initiatives, and fundraising endeavors, engage with us in meaningful activities. Support

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