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.

Men Bleed Too is a story written by Thomas Brown. Thomas kept a journal and recorded his wife Barbara's journey through breast cancer, starting in December of 1992, after a cancerous tumor was found in Barbara's right breast.

This book, compiled from the journal entries that captured Thomas's life while going through breast cancer with his wife, provides basic information to help the male caretaker though the process and journey of dealing with a loved one diagnosed with cancer. He talks about medical decisions, care management, medications, treatments prescribed, and the emotional roller coaster of feelings he had when confronted with bad or good news.

This book can give the caregiver of someone diagnosed with cancer a feeling that they are not alone in the daily issues they have to face.

Sadly, Barbara died two years after fighting the disease.

Thomas has since married Connie, who encouraged him to turn his journals into a book. He is also at work on his second book entitled She Taught Me How to Laugh Again. In this story he relates how he and Connie met, helped each other through the grieving process and moved forward with their lives.

There is no way to feel the pain of a cancer experience without having personally endured it. No doctor or nurse or researcher or scientist -- all who know the disease so well -- can adequately prepare anyone for the physical and emotional turmoil that descends upon every man, woman, and child diagnosed with this life-threatening disease. It takes the person walking in cancer shoes to paint an honest picture of life with cancer.

A comment was left on my personal breast cancer blog the other day. Although I do not know the woman who wrote to me -- or her name -- I do know what she is encountering as she begins her own walk with cancer. And here are her words -- and her sadly accurate portrayal of what it's really like to walk in cancer shoes.

I am new to the breast cancer adventure. I am 37 and was diagnosed on 10/2 and had a mastectomy on my left breast 11/13 -- my 7 year wedding anniversary. It is a roller coaster ride I am going through as you have already traveled. I am terrified!

Will the roller coaster of emotions ever slow down? I feel as though I am not able to find the positive in any of this as I read in so many stories but am dwelling on the negative. I miss my old life even though it was crazy and chaotic, but am slowly realizing it will never be the same again.

I do not know what treatment I will have until the 13th of December which is next week but seems like forever. I am working through the reconstruction and expansion portion right now which is an adventure in its own pain. I am an emotional wreck and my wonderful loving husband is taking the grunt of it all as well as my two beautiful kids -- my five-year-old little girl and two-year-old son.

Like you said my five-year-old just knows mommy is going to the doctor a lot and has a boo-boo but my 2-year-old is clueless which is nice. I just want my husband and kids to have their mom around for all the wonderful things that have yet to come but I don't want to be in this hole that I sometimes feel like I am in. Some days are great but some really, really stink.

Well, sorry to vent on you but the other thing is you feel so alone in this even though I have wonderful friends and a great husband. I don't always want to be the downer of the conversation.

Just wanted to share and let you know that your stories and blog are very helpful. Take care and my prayers are with you and your friends and families.

Beginning today, these words will be broadcast on various local Gainesville radio stations. These words are about breast cancer, about raising money for this serious disease, about Making Strides Against Breast Cancer, about the American Cancer Society. These words are about me. These are my words.

I'm Jacki. I'm someone you know. I'm a mother of two young sons, a wife, a sister, an aunt, a daughter, a friend. I am a freelance writer and a preschool teacher. I like to exercise and scrapbook and watch my little boys enjoy life's simple pleasures. I like pedicures, massages and candles. I'm 36 years old. I'm someone you know -- but I'm not alone.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer almost two years ago. And the American Cancer Society was instrumental in my recovery. I was comforted by their cancer programs and events, soothed by volunteers who called me at home to lend an ear, and educated by American Cancer Society literature and resources.

Join me for our Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk on Saturday, October 14th, at the North East Park in Gainesville at 7:30 a.m. to help fund breast cancer research. Visit www.cancer.org or call 1-800-ACS-2345 to learn how you can become involved. Because someone you know has breast cancer. I'm someone you know -- I'm a breast cancer survivor -- and with the American Cancer Society, I'm not alone.

My friend called me last night as she was having a miscarriage. She had been to the doctor, heard no heartbeat, and learned via ultrasound that her baby had stopped thriving weeks ago. Her doctors told her what to expect -- bleeding and cramping and contractions and possibly a D & C -- and she was experiencing some of these inevitable symptoms as we spoke on the phone. My friend called me because the same thing happened to me six years ago -- and when she remembered this, she dialed the phone from a state thousands of miles away. And despite our distance, our connection was close enough for comfort.