My Story
About Angie Helton, Founder of Après Cancer:
Angie's first career was in TV news, producing shows for Maine’s NBC affiliates. She later helped launch a 24-hour cable news station in New Jersey—a wild ride that had her crossing paths with everyone from Jim Carey to Paul Newman. She covered everything from Tiger Woods’ red carpet debut after his first Masters win (yes, she proposed; no, he didn’t say yes) to the tragic explosion of TWA Flight 800—her crew was the first to fly over the burning wreckage.
From there, she joined the I-Team at NYC’s WWOR (yep, the Smackdown station), digging into investigative journalism. She picked up a couple of Emmys along the way before eventually switching lanes to PR consulting. Nearly 20 years in, she’s still going strong—helping clients tell their stories, build their brands, and win.
But no matter how fast-paced the deadlines or high-profile the clients, nothing prepared her for what came next. At the end of 2021, she received a life-altering cancer diagnosis. What followed was a journey marked not by defeat, but by fierce determination, humor, and creativity. And while she never sought the spotlight, sharing her story became its own kind of calling—one that sparked a movement and a mission: Après Cancer.
My Après Cancer Story (Life after a cancer diagnosis and then rinse and repeat)
I don’t love the spotlight, but if sharing my story helps even one person face cancer differently—with joy, determination, and grit—then it’s worth shouting from the rooftops.
It all started at the end of 2021. I was packing for a New Year’s trip to Provincetown with my closest friends when I found a lump. Three weeks later, I was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer—one of the most aggressive types. Just like that, my life changed.
But I refused to let cancer consume me. I built an army—my "F Cancer Team"—of amazing friends and family who surrounded me with love and support. With them by my side, I committed to staying strong and fighting with everything I had. I worked through my treatments, did Pilates three times a week, walked, drank a gallon of water a day, and took my “lotions and potions” (supplements, etc.) religiously.
From the beginning, I decided my journey would be different. I wasn’t going to show up to chemo in sweatpants like the pamphlet advised. No way. Each treatment was a red-carpet event. I dressed up in themed outfits and sent selfies to my support crew. It brought laughter, light, and something to look forward to. I honored my hometown, stood in solidarity with Ukraine, and even roller-skated into my final chemo session. My doctor said, “That was awesome—but you have to take off those f***ing skates. You’re a liability!” We laughed. It was medicine.
In the middle of it all, I started planning my "F Cancer Tour"—a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Italy and Switzerland to drive eight supercars through the Alps. I booked it before I even knew I’d beat cancer. It gave me something to dream about.
After eight rounds of chemo, I had surgery. The call came: clear margins. Cancer-free. Then came 16 rounds of radiation. But complications delayed things, and I wasn’t sure I could take my trip. My radiologist said, “Go. You earned it.” So I did—solo to Milan, to meet up with a group of car-loving guys. I drove Ferraris, Lamborghinis, an Aston Martin, and more. I even spun out a Ferrari on Enzo Ferrari’s own track. Worth. Every. Penny.
When I got back, I started radiation the very next day. And I spent the rest of the year filled with gratitude—thanking my F Cancer Team and living fully. That New Year’s Eve meant everything. I had survived. I was ready to move forward.
But tragedy hit.
In July 2023, while at a volunteer celebration at Fort Williams Park, I noticed a series of missed calls. The news was devastating: my dear high school friend Kim—who had recently found a new, hopeful chapter in her life—had been struck and killed by a dump truck while walking. Just a month earlier, we’d been at an Ed Sheeran concert together, arms linked, singing along about friendship. Now she was gone. In that moment, even something as serious as cancer felt small in the shadow of such sudden loss.
Time moved on, slowly. I kept living, appreciating life more deeply—and missing Kim every day.
Then, in September 2024, I found another lump. My doctor said it was probably a cyst. It wasn’t.
Triple-negative breast cancer was back. Same area. This time, I needed a full-body PET scan. The waiting was brutal, but I caught it early. No spread.
We went into action again. I chose Dana-Farber for treatment. Their team was incredible, and I knew I was in the right place. I started chemo and immunotherapy in November—six rounds, every three weeks. The side effects hit harder this time, but I worked through it again and kept my spirits high. The outfits came back, too—louder and more fabulous than ever.
I found a perfect hotel in Boston, The Verb. The staff became family. They even put my name on the marquee. I broke a few more rules this time around, like bringing my friend’s giant white Samoyed dog, Maxi, into treatment. When we were told no, I pushed back—and we got in.
Maxi and I matched outfits. I wore a winter-white tuxedo coat and flowing pants. His tail was painted purple and green. One patient said, “Can I take a picture of your dog? I need to tell my kids I saw a unicorn today.” That moment? Pure magic.
January came, and after the Maxi visit, I was trying to figure out the next outfit…
All my friends were skiing…never got into skiing, too much of a calamity jane but I thought, well I have Après skied a lot hahah, what about Après Cancer…there it was! It felt so good, and I bought a vintage ski sweater online, took it to a local embroiderer, and had them stitch the words Après Cancer on the front. Rocked a fun winter ski outfit with the sweater, and off I went to my fourth treatment. The nurses loved it! I had one nurse who wasn’t working with me run up…she’s like I have to see your sweater…are you the Après Cancer girl? I laughed and was like, yes I am hahaha!
Like I always did, I texted my friends and family my treatment outfit and when I texted the group with my stepdaughter, who is a trademark lawyer in NYC, I said I think I am going to trademark this, jokingly…. unbeknownst to me my stepdaughter, Emily, looked it up and the phrase Après Cancer had not been trademarked. She let me know and we got on the phone, and I said let’s do it…. I can make something amazing out of this that gives back to help those affected by Cancer.
Why I Share
And here we are, I am Cancer Fking Free again for the second time and determined to help raise money for non-profits who help cancer patients and do it like my life depends on it. This is a movement for me…this is proof that life after a cancer diagnosis is different and can be in such a positive and impactful way that those in this large population of cancer patients understand. Life becomes richer as you learn to appreciate it more, live it more, love more!! Après Cancer is the courage to be strong, live positively, and love harder than ever before!
I don’t tell this story for sympathy. I tell it to remind people that even in the darkest times, we can choose how we show up. With humor. With style. With community. With joy.
Cancer tried to steal my life, but it didn’t get to steal my spirit.
I dedicate this mission to my Mom, Phyllis A. Helton, who was a radiant force of positivity and fun always! I love you, Mom!