I guess I've just assumed that breast cancer organizations happily accept every donation they receive and joyfully funnel all charitable gifts into their noble endeavors. I mean, without money and research and programs and services and education, where would we be? We'd be uninformed and lagging behind the force of this disease instead of gaining momentum on its trail. That's where we'd be.

Now, I've never assumed these organizations accept money obtained through illegal measures. But I've also never assumed they'd turn away money just because it came from a group of women whose profession and means of fundraising might be considered unacceptable. I suppose I shouldn't make assumptions. Because I seem to be wrong on all accounts.

The Breast Cancer Society of Canada has officially rejected a donation from a group of Vancouver strippers because of the controversial nature of their fundraisers. Exotic Dancers For Cancer these women call themselves, and for four years they have been raising money in honor of another dancer who lost her battle with terminal cancer.

Trina Ricketts, founder of the exotic dancer website nakedtruth.ca and recipient of the letter rejecting the donation, is shocked that people consider this contribution dirty money. And she is so bothered by this unfair judgment that she has been contacting the media and outting the Breast Cancer Society of Canada's discrimination practices. Her protests are working.

In a supportive turn of events, Ricketts has been met with an overwhelmingly positive response -- and she now has several organizations willing to accept all donations she wishes to offer.

This story is not nearly as simple as presented here. It's so much more detailed and touching and moving when told by Ricketts herself -- who happens to share her inspiring journey right here.

CORRECTION: Trina Ricketts reports that she did not seek out the media to out the Breast Cancer Society of Canada.

"The decision to go public was not in the interests of outing the Breast Cancer Society of Canada, but rather to seek out charities that would be willing to accept our donations," she said.

I am jingling and jangling with charms around my wrist once again. Ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer, my friend Nicole has sent me a Brighton breast cancer bracelet. My very first bracelet arrived in 2004, and I wore it proudly. My second bracelet arrived in 2005 and took the place of the first. And now, as I enter my third year of survival, my 2006 Power of Pink bracelet dangles from my arm.

This year's bracelet features a heart-shaped locket. Other charms -- designed to represent stepping stones to recovery -- feature key survival terms. Brighton tells it like this -- "When we accept, we open the door to trust and find love that will heal. Along the way, we learn to be the inspiration." And there are still more charms -- a breast cancer awareness ribbon signifying a fight for the cure, a four leaf clover to assure luck is on our side, silver beads for richness, clear crystals for truth and purity. And still, there are more.

Brighton recommends we all make a difference in the breast cancer crusade. Some may choose to chip in by contributing financially. Some may volunteer. Some may lend a sympathetic ear to others in need. Some may purchase and wear the 2006 Power of Pink bracelet -- proceeds benefit breast cancer research -- and this one simple act will send an empowering message to women everywhere.

Just two months after her mother lost her battle with gall bladder cancer, Liane was diagnosed with breast cancer. It all happened earlier this year -- and while Liane is still mourning the loss of her mother, she is also still managing the madness of her own disease. Liane is surviving with courage, with determination, with the same powerful spirit that powered her mother's fight.

Liane lives in a small city -- population 43,000 -- in northern Alberta Canada. She has been happily married for 18 years and has two daughters, ages 13 and 15, and a golden retriever named Sunny. Liane loves to garden, cook, read, and spend time with family. She normally works full-time in a real estate and property management office but has been blessed with six months off for treatment. Liane is already -- without a doubt -- a survivor.

In the moment of despair, the cliche time heals all wounds may seem anything but comforting. But that's because it's true. It takes time to heal and we are not in the right frame of mind just as something unfortunate has happened to accept -- or believe -- this advice that might come flowing from a well-wisher's lips. It's popular wisdom. It's commonly offered as comfort. It's easy to spit out. And while our wounds do not exactly fade with the passage of time, we are able to put a more positive spin on them. But it's tough to appreciate this until the unfortunate moment is long gone.

According to a recent study -- summarized in the September 2006 Ladies Home Journal magazine -- memories of distressing events, like the death of a loved one, don't go away but they do gradually get colored by more hopeful emotions. As time passes, we tend to remember strongly emotional experiences as positive even if they were once harrowing. "People are resilient," says one researcher. "We come to terms with our experiences in as positive a way as we can." So we may eventually see the death of a friend as something that made us stronger, something that reminds us to treasure our friendships. Our ability to find such meaning in the saddest of times helps transform it into a valuable experience -- and not just a sad one.

And this is exactly how I feel about having had cancer. No one could have convinced me at the time of my diagnosis that time would heal my wounds. I wasn't even sure how much time I had left on this planet. I was panic-stricken and frightened and tended to defeat conventional wisdom. But now that two years worth of time has passed me by and I am pretty certain I will continue surviving for a long time, I realize time is responsible for my positive outlook. Time did not completely heal my wounds -- I still have days when my wounds are raw -- but it surely bandaged them. And so I do believe time heals all wounds -- in a way -- and I am thankful for each moment of time I have to marvel at this truth.

I was present for death only one time in my 36 years of life. I consider this both a bad and a good thing. It's bad because I did not want my grandmother to die -- and watching it happen made it so real, so vivid, so painful. I don't think I would have ever chosen to watch my grandma die -- to watch her slip from consciousness to coma, to observe her altered body once death arrived, to witness the movement of her body on a stretcher as it was wheeled out of the house from the bedroom I still see every time I visit my mom's house. But I think I am lucky really -- and this is the good part -- because I got to be with her during her final moments. I got to watch her body as it lay still, peaceful and calm and still breathing. I got to talk to her and although she could not respond, I believe she could hear my words. And it makes me happy to know my grandma may have known I was with just prior to her flight to heaven. And after her flight, I got to touch her cool hands. I got to feel the power of the passing of one life -- a long life -- and I got to feel the comfort of a death that was not ugly or painful or difficult. It was sad -- it's still sad -- that my grandma died three years ago. But what a privilege it was to be part of the day she left this world.

Susan DeWilde left this world in much the same way -- with loved ones by her side. She was a fighter and had conquered several rounds of breast cancer, a tumor in her spinal cord, uterine cancer, lymphatic cancer, and then leukemia, which took her life at the age of 53. I don't know this from Susan herself but from her friend, Christy Mack -- who helped her accept her death and guided her into her own final moments so that she could escape her pain and die peacefully. Christy writes about her beautiful friend and her empowering death in an article that appears in the August 2006 Oprah Magazine. Titled Friends to the End, Christy's story details how she soothed her friend, cradled her hand, and talked her through her last breaths. She helped her on her way during a time her friend feared most. Christy writes, "What she and I shared the night she died was a precious gift of friendship, emotionally profound and sacred in its perfection. It broke my heart. It strengthened my soul."

This I understand.

Bureaucratic silliness or grinchy meanspiritedness? Here's the facts. In 2003, Ronald Michalowicz, a fire inspector for the village of Bedford Park, was diagnosed with tongue cancer. He was not given great odds on surviving his cancer. He kept working while going through chemotherapy. Chemotherapy was rough -- he lost 107 pounds.

In 2004, at the end of chemotherapy, but before radiation treatment began, he finally took a leave of absence from a job he had worked 28 years. The community cared about one of its own enough to raise $25,000 dollars to help Michalowicz with medical and living expenses. Cancer is expensive.

Miraculously, he beat the odds and his cancer went into remission. When he went back to work, he was fired. Why? According to village officials, he had accepted monetary contributions from the community in violation of the Illinois Gift Ban Act and village code prohibiting employees from soliciting gifts that could affect their decision-making. He hadn't asked anyone for money. A building inspector, Steve Edwards, cleared a form letter with the mayor at the time, Ronald Robison, to ask for contributions on behalf of Michalowicz. There is a new mayor now. Michalowicz only has one more year to work before he is eligible for retirement. What's really going on? You decide.