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From Diagnosis to Healing: Turning a Cancer Journey Into a Powerful Visual Story
Yawning in the doctor’s office, melting ice cream, waiting in traffic, stolen kisses, bedtime rituals—these mundane, in-between moments took on new meaning in the wake of photographer Anna Rathkopf’s cancer… The post From Diagnosis to Healing: Turning a Cancer Journey Into a Powerful Visual Story appeared first on Feature Shoot. Anna›s depression was starting to increase as time passed. Yawning in the doctor’s office, melting ice cream, waiting in traffic, stolen kisses, bedtime rituals—these mundane, in-between moments took on new meaning in the wake of photographer Anna Rathkopf’s cancer diagnosis. When Anna was diagnosed at 37 with an aggressive form of breast cancer, she knew she wanted to document this time for her young son. Her husband and caregiver, Jordan Rathkopf, also started photographing, capturing their family’s cancer journey from his perspective. The resulting book, HER2, is a moving and vulnerable portrait of a family offering an intimate and rarely-seen look at the “new normal” many cancer patients face: the emotional and everyday realities of life in the face of illness. Through images and stories shared by Anna, Jordan, and their child, the Rathkopfs’ invite viewers to witness the complexity of survivorship, vulnerability, and resilience. “This book is a testament to our trauma, grief, resilience, hope, and the deep love that sustains us. It’s ourstory, but not ours alone. Others have gone through their own experiences, but we are connected through feelings.”Anna Rathkopf Knowing their story is relatable and powerful for anyone who finds themselves or their family members in this situation, Jordan has since founded the Patient Caregiver Artist Coalition, a non-profit organization dedicated to fostering authenticity and inclusivity in how illness is portrayed. Together, the Rathkopfs’ share their impactful story—a testament to love, strength, and the profound humanity that can be found in the toughest of times. How did photographing each other and yourselves help you process Anna’s cancer diagnosis and the subsequent journey? ANNA: “The day after I was diagnosed with cancer, I made a decision to document our journey. I didn’t know how advanced my cancer was or whether I’d survive, but I felt an overwhelming need to create something for our son, Jesse—memories he could hold onto if I didn’t make it. Over time, that need evolved into something more: a way to reclaim my voice in a situation where I felt completely silenced and powerless. “Cancer stripped away so much. I lost my confidence, felt betrayed by my body, and grieved the loss of my fertility. But through all the pain and uncertainty, my camera became my refuge. It gave me a way to process what I was feeling and share it when words weren’t enough. “Photography wasn’t just about documenting what happened—it became part of my healing. It helped me start piecing myself back together, connecting the person I was before cancer, during it, and who I am now. It gave me space to feel seen, by myself and others, in a way I desperately needed. And it still is.” Anna takes a portrait of Jordan while waiting for the oncologist. JORDAN: “At first, photography was my lifeline. I didn’t know how to put my feelings into words, and I was afraid to say some of the things I was feeling. But art—photography, and music, in my case—gave me a way to process those emotions. It felt healing and natural. “In the earliest days, I was focused on Anna and what was happening to our family. I didn’t really think about documenting myself or my own experience. It wasn’t until years later, seeing Anna’s self-portraits, that I felt inspired to turn the camera on myself. Her self-reflection made me realize I had neglected my sense of identity. Being a caregiver is incredibly hard, but it’s nothing compared to being the person diagnosed. That perspective made it difficult for me to give weight to my struggles. Photography has helped me reclaim a sense of self—it’s reminded me that my experience matters too.” Nearly one year after her diagnosis. Anna had just started estrogen suppressants as part of her long-term preventive care and needed to leave work early due to suicidal thoughts and uncontrollable depression. She went to Jordan’s parents, who lived closest. When Jordan arrived, his mother, also a cancer survivor, was hugging Anna on the steps and trying to console her. Your project “HER2” captures such intimate, raw moments. How did you decide which moments to include or exclude? ANNA: “Choosing which photos to include and deciding how to tell our story was extremely difficult. Even though Jordan and I went through everything together, we each saw and felt things differently. We brought in others to help guide us and give an outside perspective, which made it easier to step back and make decisions, even when it was hard to let go of certain images. It was definitely a team effort, and in the process, we learned so much more about ourselves. “This project brought us closer as a couple. Talking about how we felt during those moments in the photos opened up conversations that deepened our understanding of each other. I got to know Jordan on a whole new level. “And through it all, we kept our son in mind—wanting the story to reflect not just what we went through, but how it shaped us as a family.” Anna was exhausted for much of her first year of treatment. Jesse would come to her in bed, with his bottle of milk, stuffed animal, and a book for her to read. Even ten years later, at the time of publication of this book, he still lies in bed with Anna when she gets sick and instinctively brings a bottle of water and a book to read. JORDAN: “Some of my favorite images didn’t make it into the book because the sequence needed balance. Every image had to serve the larger story, not just stand out individually. “The hardest part was narrowing the focus. We centered the story on our nuclear family—Anna, Jesse, and me—even though other events, like Anna’s mother’s stroke and cancer diagnosis or the loss of a close friend, profoundly impacted us. Ultimately, we wanted the narrative to stay anchored to Anna’s diagnosis and how it shaped our family even though there have been a lot of other things that have happened in the past years in addition to the aftermath of her diagnosis.” What did you each learn about yourselves and each other through this project? Did any moments surprise you? ANNA: “I remember one photo Jordan took of me. My first thought was, “Wow, he made me look so beautiful.” But it wasn’t about how I looked—I could feel his love for me in that photograph. He loved me even when I couldn’t love myself, and that’s something truly extraordinary. I’ll always be grateful for that. “Working on this project also helped me see the love Jordan has for Jesse. There’s something so special about watching how he interacts with our son. Those little, everyday moments that might seem so small—they’re everything. Seeing that love through the lens has been such a gift.” The mundane moments became everything when I got sick. Suddenly, nothing felt unimportant anymore because I didn’t know if I’d get to experience those small, ordinary things again. It gave me a new appreciation for all of it.Anna Rathkopf Anna and Jesse in the water together. JORDAN: “Seeing Anna’s photographs gave me a completely new perspective on what she was going through. For years, I had been documenting her, but I came to realize that I was capturing my version of her experience—filtered through my perceptions of what she was feeling. Her images revealed layers of vulnerability, pain, grief, joy, and resilience that I hadn’t fully grasped. “That realization forced me to confront the subjectivity of my lens—not just as a photographer, but as a partner. It was humbling to recognize how much I had been projecting my own narrative onto her experience. It taught me to approach both photography and my relationships with a greater sense of humility and deeper empathy.” Inside Anna’s hospital room right before her surgery. The world outside kept moving as usual whileeverything had changed for us in sitting inside that room. Many people feel pressured to “stay positive” during their cancer journey. How did this expectation shape or conflict with your experience? ANNA: “The pressure to “stay positive” was something I really struggled with. Suddenly, I was hyper-aware of all these images in movies and ads of women who were sick but still glowing, smiling, and strong. It felt like I was being smothered by this idea of how I was “supposed” to be. And sadly, those images influence how people think about illness. I remember people telling me I must be positive and I just didn’t get it. I heard that I might die, and they kept telling me to be positive about it. The images of women in perfect makeup felt like they were silencing me and everything I was actually feeling—grief, fear, and exhaustion. “As a sick woman, there’s also this expectation to look a certain way—like those perfect heroines in perfectly ironed scarves, radiating strength. But I didn’t feel strong. I just wanted to survive. I wanted to be here for my two-year-old son, who was too young to even remember me if I didn’t make it. I wanted to be here. “This constant push to be “positive” felt alienating. It made me feel like I couldn’t be honest about the harder parts of what I was going through, and that loneliness made everything even heavier.” Anna waiting for results from the doctor. It can take weeks between finding out you have cancer to determine how advanced it is and what your recommended treatment will be. This period of time was among the scariest. JORDAN: “That pressure shaped and, in some ways, still shapes so much of our experience. From the moment Anna was diagnosed, there was an expectation to appear fine or at least better than we may have felt. It was present at work, at home, and even in the hospital. After Anna entered survivorship, the expectation shifted again. We were supposed to feel grateful and move on, but the reality is far more complicated. “While we are deeply grateful, we also live with the fear that cancer could return. Anna’s diagnosis was unexpected—she had no significant risk factors like age or family history—which makes it harder to feel secure. That pressure to project positivity often conflicts with the ongoing reality of living with uncertainty. “ Jordan often closed his eyes and took deep breaths, unaware he was doing so. In what ways did the camera become a therapeutic or even empowering tool for you both? ANNA: “For me, the camera became my companion. Every time I had a doctor’s appointment, I’d pack my camera, and just that act of packing made me feel like I was doing something for myself—not just sitting back and waiting for the results. “The camera gave me a voice. It allowed me to express how it really felt—what words couldn’t capture. Through my images, I could show others the raw truth of those moments, and that became such an essential part of my healing process.” JORDAN: “For me, the camera was both a shield and a magnifying glass. It allowed me to observe from a safe distance when things felt overwhelming, but it also helped me look closely at moments I might have otherwise avoided. It became a protective layer—a way to process without being completely exposed. “At the same time, it was a time capsule. It preserved moments of love and joy that I never wanted to forget. The act of photographing gave me a sense of control and a way to hold onto hope.” Passover 2021 How has your understanding of vulnerability changed through your work on HER2? ANNA: “I’ve come to realize that vulnerability allows for a deeper connection with others. By opening up and letting
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