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Sherri Daley

sherridaley

Sherri Daley has established herself among editors as someone who will write about anything. She throws herself into her work by doing most of what she writes about – motorcycling across the country, riding a unicycle, rock-climbing, spelunking, body-building, race car driving, or being the "monkey" on the sidecar of a 1952 Norton. She may scare herself in the process, but she considers herself a better person for it.

She's the author of a book about commodities traders and a ghostwriter for business motivational texts. She has written freelance for national and regional magazines, including MORE magazine, Car and Driver, and the New York Times.

She swears she did not get cancer, grow old, gain weight, develop glaucoma, decide to become a single mother, teach in an inner city school, or experience histrionic romantic break-ups just so she can write about it. 

  CANCER | LIFE

Living With Breast Cancer: The Final Chapter – What’s Next?

June 28, 2011
The author recovering from breast cancer.

So I'm talking to a doctor at a party, and he's, like, genomic analysis is the totally latest thing in breast cancer treatment, and I'm, like, "Hey, I had breast cancer and nobody analyzed MY genomes." And I am pretty sure that these are not garden genomes that he's talking about.

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  CANCER | LIFE

Living With Breast Cancer: Chapter 16 – Breast Cancer in the Subway

June 22, 2011
Avon walk for Breast Cancer

Aside from writing this blog, I go days without thinking about cancer. I make an effort not to dwell on it. However, travelling by subway during a recent trip to Manhattan, I noticed that next to a 10-foot-high advertisement promoting Lady Gaga's next tour there is an equally unavoidable floor-to-ceiling billboard-sized poster about the importance of early detection of breast cancer.

Actually, there are four of them, strategically placed on the walls under Grand Central.

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  CANCER | LIFE

Living With Breast Cancer: Chapter 15 – Stupid T-shirts

The author and her friend Ingrid

I met Ingrid when I was bald. It was a few months after the handsome Dr. Lanin had removed the malignant tumor from my left breast, and I was walking to stave off an impending sense of doom. It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. I was watching her walk briskly a few yards ahead of me. She was a handsome woman of a certain age and I caught up with her on purpose, thinking I might have found a friend to walk with on a regular basis.

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   | LIFE

Living With Breast Cancer: Chapter 14 – New Hair

The author in the Dubai desert.

Breast cancer is a many-splendored thing – there's the genuine look of kind pity on the face of the poor doctor who had to tell you the diagnosis; the swell white-bread-and-cheese sandwiches and free banana pudding in the chemo room; the music while undergoing radiation; the gentle hand pats; the visits from the grief counselor; and the nurses who look truly excited to see you when you show up – kind of like good maitre d's. Unfortunately, the music while I was undergoing radiation reminded me of the movie "Apocalypse Now."

THE NEW ME: CONFUSED ROCK STAR

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