On Sept. 1, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced a sweeping federal eviction moratorium for tenants who are unable to pay their rent due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
There are two generic types of cancer: the cancer that you have, and the cancer that has you.
Eleven years, six months and two weeks, approximately, after being diagnosed with "terminal" cancer: stage IV non small cell lung cancer, I have begun my treatment for stage IV papillary thyroid cancer.
Workers lucky enough to have a job face the double bind of fearing the risk of COVID-19 and being laid off.
There will be nothing leisurely about this Labor Day for many working families, not least for essential workers.
As I was telling my long-time friend, Rita, over the phone on Saturday afternoon, as a cancer patient – and I know this is going to sound ridiculous, short-sighted and stupid, I am not always forthcoming and honest when it comes to sharing new symptoms with my doctors, particularly my oncologist.
Hundreds of calls and emails from constituents urging Congress to stop efforts to sabotage the USPS.
This August the U.S. Postal Service (USPS) unexpectedly became a center of national attention.
I don't remember much substance from my freshman-level psychology 100 class at the University of Maryland in 1972 except that the lecture hall sat approximately 600 students, tests were graded on a bell curve (with which I was totally unfamiliar), the professor always wore black leather pants, and he brought his dog to every lecture.
After 11 years and almost exactly six months since being diagnosed with stage IV, non-small cell lung cancer, the party is apparently over.
As mothers and grandmothers, the 400 members of the Montgomery County Federation of Republican Women (MCFRW) applaud Governor Larry Hogan for overturning the Montgomery County Health Officer’s directive to keep nonpublic schools closed.
Whether or not I'm certain about my attitude toward being a dual cancer threat (non small cell lung and papillary thyroid, cancer), only my subconscious knows for sure.
The prohibition of marijuana in America has clearly failed.
After more than six months away from the infusion center, due to the treatment for my papillary thyroid cancer stage II, I make my return on Wednesday, July 22.
And not just Tuesday, either. All week in fact, I'll be waiting to hear the music.
The Pet Almanac, a twice-yearly special edition, will publish the last week of July, and photos and stories of your pets with you and your family should be submitted by Thursday, July 23.
"Very interesting," to quote Artie Johnson from "Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In," that "crazy-kooky" comedy show from the 70s.