The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

I'm sick of talking about this sickness of mine. But there's one more thing I need to say in regards to how it's disrupted my life -- and how one person has helped me pick up the pieces I've left scattered around as a result.

The one more thing: Sickness always throws me for a loop. I'm an organized, planned, on-the-ball sort of person and I don't like how sickness takes me out of the game. I'm not good at sitting around, resting, putting my feet up for extended periods of time. I hate how life passes me by and my responsibilities begin to stack up. I try my best to stay on top of everything but all it really does is keep me sick. It seems the more I try to do, the longer it takes for my body to heal.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

I've been sick for 10 days. Only during the past few days have I started noticing my body is beginning to mend. I judge this by the fact that lately, I am able to sleep.

For days and days, I coughed all night. I might sleep for an hour here and there but mostly, I spent my twilight hours hacking uncontrollably. My cough was so severe at times, it caused me to vomit. My cough was horrible and landed me night after night in a vicious cycle I couldn't control.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

My house was struck by lightening the other day. I wasn't home at the time but heard the violent storm from inside my mom's house, in the same neighborhood. The thunder and lightening was so loud and crashing, I wondered if it would tear through the roof above me. It didn't -- but it did tear apart quite a lot at my house, just a block away.

When I got home, I smelled a burning odor, heard a surge protector beeping, and discovered I'd lost power in half my house. A neighbor came to my rescue -- my husband and boys were at the beach while I stayed home to recover from my recent illness -- and restored the electricity in my house. I thought all was well, except for a cable outtage which I determined a minor inconvenience. But then I noticed plaster, rock, and wood had been sprayed around my boys' room and a guest room. My youngest son's bed was covered. A lone piece of wood sat in the middle of the guest room. Where had this come from?

It came from the baseboards located in one corner in each room. They had been shred into pieces and torn from the walls. And my carpet had been somehow lifted up from the floor and appeared singed at the edges. When I spoke to my husband about this amazing destruction, we came to appreciate just how powerful weather can be. Mostly, though, we counted our blessings. No one had been home. No one had been outside at the time of the strike. Our house had not burned down. Our smallest child was not in bed when the debris flew. We are lucky.

Today, I am grateful my family survived the storm.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

Losing my hair was one of my most traumatic cancer experiences. When first told I needed chemotherapy, I didn't fret about the poisons that would circulate throughout my body, or the nausea that might strike me. What I feared most was losing my hair. It seems silly now. I mean, hair is just hair. If I could trade my hair right now for a guarantee that cancer would never return, I'd do it. But three years ago, when cancer was new and my self-image was faltering, I couldn't stand the thought of losing it.

I did OK once my hair was gone. I found great human-hair wigs and I learned to enjoy my shower-and-go morning routine. I could get ready in an instant. It was all kind of liberating really. Now, don't get me wrong. I was glad when my hair came back. And every day when I look in the mirror, I am comforted by the fact that long dark hair now covers my head. Yes, hair is just hair. But there's just something about it that makes me feel well, happy.

Today, I am grateful for my hair.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

When I think about how much my mom rescued me during my breast cancer treatment, I always land at the fact that she watched my little boys for 35 days in a row while I transported myself to and from radiation therapy. That wasn't all she did -- she also accompanied me to surgery, sat with me during chemotherapy treatments, parked herself by my bedside when I was hospitalized, dried my tears, fed me, hugged me, encouraged me, and loved me.

My mom helped me survive cancer. She is my hero.

Today, I am grateful for my mom.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

For the past six and a half years, I've been a full-time, stay-at-home mom. It's my job, just like my husband has a job. In his job, he gets to actually leave the house alone, go to the bathroom all by himself, eat lunch in peace with other adults, and collect a paycheck each and every month. I get none of that. Still, I get a lot. I got to hold my babies all day, every day when they were teeny, tiny. I got to love and nurture them and observe their every move. I saw them walk and talk for the first time, eat solid food, grasp toys, and eventually, head off to school.

Both of my boys are in school now, so I am without them for about five hours each weekday. Still, I am a full-time mom. I wake them in the morning, feed them breakfast, pack their lunches and backpacks, head them in the direction of matched clothing, urge them to brush their teeth and put on their shoes and buckle up tight in the car. I drive them to their respective schools and return promptly at the end of the school day to pick them up. And then we spend the afternoons together. It's a great job. I wouldn't trade it for anything -- not even a big, fat paycheck.

Today, I am grateful I get to be a stay-at-home mommy.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

The night before my lumpectomy, way back in December 2005, I was consumed with fear, worry, and panic. Since I'd found it, the lump in my left breast had been sitting untouched for nearly two weeks. I imagined the mass spreading with each day and believed I could detect its growth each time I felt for it. A doctor told me if it was growing like I thought it was, my tiny pea-sized tumor would be the size of an apple within days.

My fears were unfounded and irrational. I know that now. But during the moments of uncertainty that filled my days between diagnosis and prognosis, I had no direction. I had only my wandering mind for company. The waiting really is the hardest part. Once faced with the specifics of our diseases, we can take action.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

It's hot here in Florida -- steamy, sticky, humid, unbearable hot. The kind of hot that makes me sweat in an instant. The kind of hot that keeps me and my kids cooped up in the air-conditioned indoors for as long as we can stand it. The kind of hot that has me dreaming about cool, crisp, chilly days. I'd even take downright cold at the moment -- anything other than this treacherous heat.

It's only August, which in Florida means there's still a few months of blistering weather remaining. September will be hot, October could be hot -- last year's trick-or-treat extravaganza was pretty darn warm -- and then maybe in November, we'll get some relief. I don't prefer to wait this long for my favorite of all temperatures -- high 60s, low 70s -- but I'll make it. I might even enjoy the wait while I fantasize of wearing sweaters and jackets and long pants. There's something about anticipation that makes life exciting. The countdown is on.

Today, I am grateful for the promise of cooler temperatures.

The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. It's healing for the soul to be mindful of the good in our lives. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

Both of my little boys are in school now. Joey is in first grade. Danny is in Pre-K. And I am at home -- all alone, for four and a half hours, five days per week, in total and complete silence. I get to exercise, read, write, fold my laundry, wash my dishes, run errands, whatever my little heart desires.

It's been six whole years since I've been able to go to the bathroom by myself, take a shower without the distant sounds of fighting and tormenting in the background, and eat lunch with slow, purposeful bites. After all these years as a full-time mom, my new-found free time is glorious.

Today, I am grateful for the stillness and silence that fills my house when my little wonders are at school.

"Blessings arrive in unexpected packages -- in my case, cancer," writes White House Press Secretary Tony Snow in the July issue of Christianity Today.

Snow, who discovered in March that his colon cancer had recurred and spread to his liver, said his life-threatening setback is also life-affirming. It has strengthened his faith and brought clarity to his life.

"We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator," says the 51-year-old.

The one constant thing that gives people fighting cancer hope is the continued support of friends and family. Phone calls, emails, a surprise or planned visit at the door that has a big hug on the other side, a held hand over coffee or tea, or sitting patiently by their side as they go in for treatments. When that support falls by the wayside, it makes the determination to fight this disease or any other less worth the effort. In my humble opinion as someone fighting cancer, we sometimes fight harder to overcome disease for others more than ourselves. Because it is in their caring and the will in their eyes that gives us a much brighter hope than we find in ourselves. It is the lack of support or caring that sets off an internal depression that makes it ten times harder to find the will to fight. People seem to find it easier to hug a tree than a human. Try to imagine if you will sitting in a house alone and thinking about a disease that can run rampant through your body. It is hard to imagine and something that we do not want to think about. Yet many many people face that struggle every day of their lives.

So if you haven't reached out to someone you know, a neighbor, a friend, someone in your church or where you work, or even a family member that is struggling with cancer or any other disease, then find it in your heart to do so. It will make a difference. And if you have reached out to someone once or even twice, know that once is not enough and twice is not enough. No matter how much you think you are being a nuisance, that constant reminder of love and support is 95 percent of your friend's battle. The old saying "You never know who your true friends are until you go through a crisis and see who stands by our side" is very very true. So go stand by someone's side today, tomorrow, and for many days to come to offer support and encourage strength until their fight is successful. Even a phone call goes a long long way.

For those of you who stay in touch with me by phone and emails and that come knocking on my door in this time of need, I thank you very much for giving me the strength and will to survive.

I guess the concept is happy -- the public urging for our world's policy makers to make cancer a top priority -- but the fact that becomes all too apparent on this World Cancer Day is quite sobering. More than seven million people die from cancer and close to 11 million new cases are diagnosed worldwide each year. In 2006, cancer killed more people than AIDS, malaria, and tuberculosis combined.

So today is both happy and sad. But for now, let's focus on the happy.

The Geneva-based International Union Against Cancer (UICC) and member organizations in 86 countries are launching a five-year campaign to impart life lessons to children so they can prevent cancer later in life. Parents are critical in this campaign and must take an active role in teaching their children techniques for saving their lives.

Forty-three percent of cancer cases can be prevented through healthy lifestyles that begin in childhood. The World Cancer Campaign slogan -- Today's Children, Tomorrow's World -- underscores the possibility that a concerted effort among world leaders, parents, and their children can make a real difference through four key actions -- providing a smoke-free environment for children; ensuring children keep physically active, eat a healthy diet, and avoid obesity; educating children about vaccines for virus-related liver and cervical cancers; and limiting children's exposure to the sun.

Former First Lady Barbara Bush, Her Royal Highness Lalla Slama of Morocco, Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo, and tennis star Steffi Graf are some of the powerful voices powering this campaign that UICC president Dr. Franco Cavalli says can save so many lives if embraced by those at the highest decision-making levels.

"Complacency and inaction on the part of world community will effectively contribute to more than 10 million deaths every year by 2020," he said.

In the not-too-distant future, dermatologists will be able to diagnose skin cancer without ever cutting the skin.

Right now, doctors cut out all suspicious lesions in order to examine them, to determine if they are cancerous or not. But with the development of a new microscope, cells can be examined right on the body -- without cutting.

Moles matter, reported Matt Lauer on Thursday's TODAY show during an interview with a skin cancer expert. Moles are highly associated with melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer. So it is critical that each mole is investigated. With this new high resolution technology -- essentially a video biopsy -- a camera will allow doctors to view cells, zero in on the area of concern, and pinpoint the exact cells that make up a mole. If the cells are similar in shape and size and have equal distribution, the mole is normal. If the individual cells are irregular and have no uniform pattern, the mole is abnormal and probably cancerous.

While cutting for biopsy purposes will one day be a thing of the past, cutting will still be necessary if a mole is characterized by cancerous cells. If it's cancer, it must come out. But the video biopsy can be used to map the border and boundaries and will allow for precise removal of the mole.

This technology is still developing -- but one day, perhaps eight to 10 years from now -- doctors will be able to more consistently detect cancer without removal of skin. For now, they must take a piece of the mole and put it under a microscope.

There are definite warning signs of skin cancer. Any mole that is asymmetrical with irregular borders and varied, dark colors should be reported to a physician. Also, any mole that changes in color, shape, or size and is bigger than a pencil eraser is cause for concern.

Heavy head. Heavy body. Sore throat. Sore gums. Swollen lymph nodes. Fever blister. Hurts to chew. Hurts to swallow. Hurts to recall last time symptoms appeared. During chemotherapy.

Drugs attacking cells. Body weak. Blood counts plummeting. Body crashing. Headache. Fever. Sore throat. Sore gums. Trip to hospital. For five days. For antibiotics. For opinions. For constant monitoring. For daily shots to rebuild blood.

Phone call to dentist who knows my burden. Of worry. And fear. And anxiety. That never really goes away. Always reappears. A virus, he says. All of it. The throat. The gums. The lymph nodes. The fever blister. Nothing more. Should last five to seven days. Don't worry. Relax. Call if it gets worse.

Feeling better. Feeling emotional. Because people are so kind. Like my dentist. Who eased my mind. Soothed my soul.

Time to march forward. For myself. For today.

Katie Couric spent her summer traveling the country visiting with future CBS news fans and raising money for cancer awareness. Couric, whose husband Jay Monahan died of colon cancer in 1998 at the age of 42, has become a prominent spokesperson for colon cancer awareness. She underwent a colonoscopy on-air in March 2000 and inspired many others to get checked. In October 2005, in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Couric broadcast her own mammogram on the Today Show in hopes of motivating women everywhere to get schedule their own mammograms. Her influence on both cancer fronts -- known as the Couric Effect -- demonstrates the fact that one powerful person can draw much attention to important causes. And perhaps her influence -- soon to arrive on television screens everywhere -- will continue as she takes the driver's seat on the CBS Evening News beginning September 5 at 6:30 PM.

On her second day of work in her new job, Couric will interview President Bush at the White House as part of a primetime special. Other story plans include digging deeper into the stories of the day and answering questions viewers might have on all topics. Hopefully, cancer issues will continue to take priority in Couric's life so that we all may benefit from her advocacy.