JOELLE KAUFMAN HAS LIVED WITH THE REALITY OF CANCER—as both a caregiver and a patient—for more than 40 years. In 1983, when she was just 13, her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, and two decades later, her sister received the same diagnosis. Kaufman helped care for both during treatment. All three eventually learned they carry the BRCA1 gene mutation, which increases the risk for breast and other cancers.
After Kaufman gave birth to her third child in 2007, she chose to have her ovaries removed to reduce her risk for breast and ovarian cancer. Recalling her sister’s painful experience after her mastectomy, Kaufman opted to have frequent cancer screenings instead of undergoing a preventive surgery to remove her breasts. “Every six months, someone was scanning my breasts,” Kaufman says. “I joke that I had a frequent flyer card and was ‘global elite’ at the women’s scanning center.”
By late 2022, Kaufman had had enough of the scans and the anxiety she felt each time a doctor spotted something suspicious. She decided to have both breasts removed, but as she prepared for surgery in January 2023, a mammogram revealed a lump in her right breast. At age 52, she was diagnosed with aggressive triple-negative breast cancer. The news did not surprise her, given all she’d learned over the years. “I was easily among the most prepared and the least traumatized people to be told they have cancer in the history of people being told,” she says.
Kaufman underwent chemotherapy for 12 weeks, followed by surgery and immunotherapy. Helping her mother and sister face cancer gave her a clear sense of how she wanted to approach treatment decisions, big and small. For example, Kaufman requested the specific anti-nausea drug her sister found most effective.
Kaufman had also watched her parents grow isolated and lonely after her mother’s diagnosis, so she was determined to approach her own treatment with a sense of humor and to include her loved ones in the process. Throughout her treatment, she sought out what she calls “happiness tripwires,” everyday routines that create tiny doses of joy, such as asking her friends to text her jokes during infusions. She completed treatment in January 2024 and has had no signs of cancer since.
To pass along the techniques that worked for her, Kaufman wrote Crushing the Cancer Curveball: A Playbook for the Newly Diagnosed, Their Family and Friends, published in January 2025. In the book, which is part memoir, part guidebook, Kaufman shares lessons learned and habits to support emotional well-being during the cancer journey. Each chapter ends with strategies readers can use to help navigate each phase of treatment, and Kaufman sprinkles stories of other women’s breast cancer experiences throughout the book.
Kaufman spoke with Cancer Today about how happiness tripwires and humor brightened her mood during treatment.
CT: Can you share an example of how helping your mother and sister on their cancer journeys changed how you approached your own treatment?
KAUFMAN: I’d watched both my mother’s and sister’s veins be destroyed by chemotherapy infusions, so I wanted a port. And I had fun with it. I asked my friends to help me name it. One of my friends came up with Voldeport, like the Harry Potter villain. When I went for lab draws, I would say, “Voldeport is ready for you,” which would make people laugh.
CT: What inspired your happiness tripwire recommendations?
KAUFMAN: When my mother had cancer, my parents were very isolated. It was psychologically hard. So when it came to me, I thought, “What could I do to make this better?”
I involved my three kids. I asked my eldest to create playlists for infusions. I asked my middle son, a 19-year-old college freshman at that time, to send me a letter a week that I could read on infusion day. And I looked to my youngest for hugs. Jessica, my best friend, arranged for different people to drive me to my infusions so I could visit with a friend. One of my rabbis sent me prayers with YouTube links so I could listen and sing along. My husband, Neal, gave me a stuffed dinosaur named Stego that I could snuggle during infusions. Friends sent jokes and text messages full of emoji kisses. All of this helped me on chemo day.
These things prompt the body to release dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin, which make you feel happier and might bolster your immune system. I’ve never felt so loved, so supported. I’ve never felt such strong community. To be clear, I would prefer to never do that again, but it was a wonderful, warm year of my life.
CT: What role did humor play that year?
KAUFMAN: Humor and laughter made the journey lighter. Cancer is a drag. It’s heavy, but it’s also absurd. When I thought about how I looked in my cold cap to prevent hair loss, I realized I looked like an astronaut, which was funny. Laughter made it easier to get through the days when I had infusions.
CT: What suggestions do you have for people going through cancer treatment?
KAUFMAN: First, it is not weak to ask for help. People want to help you.
It is also completely legit and helpful to be explicit about what you want and don’t want. You are in the driver’s seat, and people will thank you for your clarity.
And finally, stay ahead of the “ick,” or feeling really sick, whether that is through happiness tripwires, through exercise, through the foods you eat. If you can stay ahead of the ick when it happens, it will be less intense and last for less time.
CT: What is your advice for caregivers?
KAUFMAN: There are lots of ways to be a caregiver; it doesn’t have to be a full-time job. The book gives a long list of ideas. My best friend worked out with me three days a week at 6:30 in the morning. That was her way of caregiving.
The cool thing about being a caregiver—and I know because I’ve been one—is that it fills your soul. There’s the warmth from receiving care, and there is such warmth in being able to give.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
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