In August, it will be one year since I wrote about Lynne, a woman with gallbladder cancer and not a whole lot of information about the disease. There is so little current news on the topic, in fact, that in the archives of all Cancer Blog posts, there is only one about this type of cancer. It's my post about Lynne.

Lynne was diagnosed with gallbladder cancer in May 2006 and just a few months later started publishing her blog.

"I was diagnosed with gallbladder cancer, a rare and aggressive form of cancer with a poor prognosis," Lynne wrote right away. "Information was hard to find, and I want to chronicle my experiences, to share what I have learned about this diagnosis and its physical and emotional implications. I also want to explore the spiritual implications of receiving a life threatening diagnosis."

Lynne began her blog on August 6 -- one week ago and two months after she endured surgery to clear a clogged bile duct and received the grim and frightening diagnosis of gallbladder cancer. Her cancer is stage IV -- not an uncommon staging for a hard-to-detect disease that many will only survive for two to six months. So Lynne is scared but still strong and hopeful and full of faith. Her goal is to live -- not die -- with cancer, even though her days may be numbered. So Lynne blogs her thoughts and fears and all the bits and pieces of information she gathers about a disease that is rare and resources that are scare. It helps her. And it will surely help others. And here is a glimpse into what she shared in her first post.

If you had only six months or a year to live, would you want to know? What would you do with the information? Would it make a difference in how you lived your life? These are questions I have been asking for the past two months. In asking them, I have also noticed how little guidance there is for this process. Who have I known personally who was able to anticipate their death? I can think of only two individuals, and I never asked them whether or not they were living differently in their awareness of their mortality.

So, those are the themes in this blog. I look forward to a dialog with those I know, and those I don't about this strange, life changing journey.

To Lynne -- and to all others who are faced with the disease -- may you find peace and comfort and strength in every step you take, every direction you follow, every path that becomes your road to recovery.