North Carolina State women's basketball coach Kay Yow is still in the game, despite her difficult match-up with a fierce opponent -- breast cancer.

Yow is fighting for the third time a disease that has been spreading throughout her body since last fall. She has sores in her mouth, hasn't been able to eat, and receives regular doses of pain medication, antibiotics, and nutrients to combat the effects of three chemotherapy drugs that are cycling through her tired body.

Still, Yow is never far from the sidelines.

She was right there in the mix the day NC State named its women's basketball court in her honor. Shortly after, she was wheeled off the court on a stretcher, headed for the hospital so she could be pumped full of drugs. She was at work the next day. And at the unveiling of the Kay Yow Court. And at her game that same night. And at the end of the night, with an oncologist and nurse, she was accompanied to her office where she was once again hooked up to an IV so drugs could once again drip into Yow's exhausted body.

Yow, 65, is tough and determined.

"I know people are saying I'm doing too much," Yow says. "I know I have to take care of myself. But it's not like I have a cold or pneumonia and if I rest it will get better. Rest is not going to cure cancer. If rest were just the answer, that's what I would do."

"But if someone can be involved with something that is a passion for them, then I don't think there's anything wrong in trying to do that. Coaching lifts me up. Once the ball is tossed up, I forget pretty much about everything and just focus on the game. If I just do nothing, I feel like I'm giving in to the disease."

For anyone keeping score on the battle between Yow and cancer, it's clear Yow is a winner.

Previous posts about Kay Yow are as follows:
NC State coach takes leave to fight breast cancer
NC State basketball coach Kay Yow back in the game

The breast cancer chemotherapy drug Adriamycin is often called The Red Devil. It's red in color and devilish in it's attack on both cancer cells and healthy cells. After her own personal attack by this drug, Katherine Russell Rich wrote a book, and she called it The Red Devil: To Hell with Cancer -- and Back. It's her account of how she got sick at the age of 32 with a relentless form of breast cancer. Although she was given just a short period of time to survive, Rich conquered cancer. And years later, she is alive and well. And she has discovered -- by mere coincidence -- that her book years ago inspired a group of women in Baltimore who are helping breast cancer patients through kind deeds. They foot the bill for transportation costs, housecleaning, and massage. They pick up and deliver medications. They gather and hug and eat. They take strolls. They call themselves The Red Devils.

Rich only found out about The Red Devils support group when a friend noticed a mention of the group in a newspaper. She informed Rich who visited the group's website. What she found took her breath away.

It seems a woman named Lark Schulze had at one time been desperate to learn about young women with stage IV breast cancer -- the same stage her 30-year-old daughter faced -- and she could not find any helpful resources. Until she came across Rich's book and poured herself into one woman's story. Moved by Rich's words, she tried to locate her, with no luck. So she took what she gathered from the book and after losing her daughter 19 months after diagnosis, became a founding member of a powerful support group -- The Red Devils -- in late 2002.

Despite failed attempts at finding Rich, Schulze says Rich changed her life. And now that the women have connected, Rich says Schulze has changed her life. At first Rich was afraid to be drawn into Schulze's world. But with a hunger to understand breast cancer from a mother's perspective, Rich took the plunge. She talked to Schulze, visited her, strolled with her, and soon the hard lump she'd carried in her stomach for so long began to soften as she connected in a deep and bizarre way with a woman she had inspired -- a woman she had never before known.

Late last March fans of rock legend and Aerosmith lead singer Steven Tyler became concerned over speculation that Tyler had been diagnosed with throat cancer. Even though the remaining Rockin' The Joint show dates were cancelled, everyone connected to Tyler assured the public the rumors were false. Steven Tyler did not have cancer. He was suffering from strained vocal cords and needed a rest.

At the time, bassist Tom Hamilton explained the cancelled shows by saying, "You know Steven. Anything worth doing, to him, is worth overdoing," in reference to the fact that the band had been touring more now than it did 10 years ago.

Unfortunately, several months later it was announced that Hamilton had been diagnosed with cancer.

While the rumors had quieted concerning Tyler's health, now and then something new would come to our attention that made us wonder if he was okay. A reader wrote in that he had seen Tyler at the oncology clinic at a hospital he was visiting. We kept that under our hat.

Last night, Tyler appeared on Access Hollywood and for the first time, publicly discussed his health. No, he was not diagnosed with throat cancer -- but he had faced a serious health crisis and decided to speak about it. Tyler said he had been fighting a secret battle with a silent killer -- Hep C. Diagnosed three years ago, he was told by his doctor, Deepak Chopra's brother, that it was time he sought treatment. Tyler agreed to undergo a year of chemotherapy with interferon. He stated it nearly killed him but managed to stay with it and complete treatment. Tyler had Hep C for many years, and was asymptomatic, which is typical.

During the interview, Tyler said, "Hepatitis C is the one that, of all the people in this room, at least three have it and don't know it." He would like to raise awareness about Hep C and mentioned he might appear on Oprah for that purpose. "It's one of those things people don't speak about it, but it is treatable."

Almost 4 million Americans, or 1.8 percent of the U.S. population, have been infected with hepatitis C virus (HCV); it is the most prevalent cause of chronic liver disease in the United States. 80 percent of those with Hep C have no symptoms. Chronic hepatitis C can cause cirrhosis, liver failure, and liver cancer.

If you missed the television Access Hollywood interview with Steven Tyler, the video segment of the program is available online here.

Did you know almost 4 million Americans, or 1.8 percent of the U.S. population, have been infected with hepatitis C virus (HCV); it is the most prevalent cause of chronic liver disease in the United States; and a segment of those suffering from chronic HCV, or Hep C, will develop liver cancer. Until this morning, I did not know.

But when someone close to you is diagnosed with this disease, numbers do not matter. Even if there were only two people on the planet with this diagnosis and one of the two happens to be someone you love, then it suddenly seems to become the number one disease.

In my preliminary research, I have found that 80 percent of those with Hep C have no symptoms. If symptoms do occur, they are likely to be jaundice; fatigue; dark urine; abdominal pain; loss of appetite and nausea. Skin rashes, extreme itching, muscle wasting and weight loss can also be signs of Hep C. For decades, you can have Hep C and not know it is taking its toll on the liver.

According to the National Digestive Diseases Information Clearinghouse (NDDIC), a distinct and major characteristic of hepatitis C is its tendency to cause chronic liver disease. At least 75 percent of patients with acute hepatitis C ultimately develop chronic infection, and most of these patients have accompanying chronic liver disease. Chronic hepatitis C can cause cirrhosis, liver failure, and liver cancer.

Those at highest risk for Hep C are intravenous drug users; recipients of clotting factors made before 1987; hemodialysis patients; recipients of blood and/or solid organs before 1992; healthcare workers, and infants born to infected mothers.

The treatments are harsh and can come with severe side effects that cause some to discontinue treatment. New research indicates that smoking marijuana seems to offset some of the adverse side effects of treatment and help those fighting this disease remain on treatment. Hepatitis Central has published an explanation of how Hep C infection can lead to liver cancer with Duke Researchers Show How Hepatitis Infection Leads To Liver Cancer, that I found helpful in understanding the progression of the disease.

As I say, I have just started my research this morning. With a critical eye, I will continue researching until I have exhausted every avenue of information, both conventional and alternative, that I can find. If any of our readers can suggest any resources for Hep C and/ or liver cancer, please leave this information in the comment area.

Just before my chemotherapy for breast cancer started -- when I was fantastically frightened by the toxic drugs that were about to drip into my veins -- I was told by doctors, nurses, survivors, friends that I would be just fine. I was young and strong and tough. I would easily tolerate the beating my body was about to take. This is what I was told and actually came to believe myself. I had no other choice really than to approach chemotherapy with a fighter mentality. And so I did. And I did pretty well for my first three doses of Adriamycin and Cytoxan -- given every two weeks instead of three in a dose-dense fashion -- followed by one injection of Neulasta 24 hours later to maintain normal blood counts. And then something happened. And I did not end up tolerating the chemotherapy my gut told me was a scary endeavor.

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.

This is my port. It looks to me like a bottle cap sewn under the skin on my chest. My son Joey -- he is five years old --  calls it my stone and his brother Danny -- he just turned three -- at one time thought everyone must have this same boo-boo. He would look for it, feel for it, hunt for it. But mine is the only port he could actually locate and now that he's getting older, he is not so concerned with it anymore.

My concern about the port is that everyone who needs chemotherapy should have one. It's the alternative to receiving IV sticks in the arms and hands and except for one quick stick that can sting -- I use a 5% lidocaine numbing cream prior to my infusion and with this miracle lotion, I don't feel a thing -- it is quick and painless. My port is a one-stop shop. Once accessed, blood can be drawn, drugs and fluids can be infused, shots can be injected, and at the end of treatment, an injection of blood thinner keeps the line clear and clean. The line attached to the port underneath my skin travels into large veins in a direct and efficient manner. While hospitalized for chemo-induced fever and low blood counts, I received antibiotics and a blood transfusion through this method. There was one stick when I was admitted and for my five-day stay, I never had to be poked again.

My port, called Infuse-a-Port®, was implanted during a minor outpatient surgery with use of a local anesthesia and it was ready for use immediately after the procedure.

My port has been used for 16 months now and will no longer be necessary at the end of July -- this is when the last drops of Herceptin will sail through my veins. Then I get to decide whether to keep my port or have it removed. It can stay for many years as long as it is flushed once each month. The superstitious part of me thinks I should keep it for future use -- if necessary -- and the rational part of me thinks I need to get rid of this bottle cap because I may never need it again. Regardless, I love my port. It has eased the discomfort of chemotherapy and for that, I am grateful.