In July 2008, one week before her 35th birthday, Danielle Klein, was diagnosed with Choroidal Melanoma (a rare eye cancer that impacts 2,000 adults each year). Danielle vividly recalls her first thought upon hearing her diagnosis, “I can’t afford to have cancer. How am I going to pay for this?”

Danielle’s initial shock and fear have evolved. She’s harnessed her trademark humor, focused on “the love of her life — her son Gabriel, and embraced new coping tools and friends at The Wellness Community.

“My family has always tried to see the humor in things,” says Danielle with delight. She retells a story of going to her first oncology appointment with her sister Melissa. “The elevator audio phone popped and crackled, and a whiney robotic voice said, ‘Your warranty is about to expire.’ What else could we do but laugh?”

Journaling helps Danielle cope with cancer’s complexity. “I remember the endless paperwork, waiting for phone calls, worrying about money and test results, feeling exhausted, no ‘me’ time, and fear about the future. The list seemed endless,” admits Danielle. The Wellness Community (TWC) has become a refuge, “I immediately signed up for a support group. Without the support of others who uniquely understand, I would have found it almost impossible to deal with the overwhelming issues I faced. Our group facilitator says so often, ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’ Those reassuring words and so many others have comforted me as I travel this path.”



In January 2011, Danielle had the removal of her left eye. With her humor firmly intact, you’ll often see Danielle wearing a skull and crossbone patch. In April, she is scheduled for prosthetic eye surgery. She continues to explore and appreciate all that TWC offers. “I love the beautiful old house, the comfy furniture, the organized library, the garden, the friendly staff, and, of course, all of the helpful programs,” says Danielle with her winning, bright smile. “The Wellness Community has positively influenced not only my battle with cancer but my life as a whole. For me, it’s like coming home.”