Cancer goes on. So does life. Just ask Mary Ann O'Rourke, author of a beautiful essay about her two sons, a baseball game, a redecorating project, and a little thing called breast cancer.

The essay, titled My cancer, and me, go on, will warm your heart.

Think about this:

About boys:

On a misty June morning I tell the boys.

"Guys, I have some bad news," I say, as we walk down Valley Road.

They stop, wait for me to catch up.

"I have breast cancer," I say.

Jack flashes me a steely look. He's the mathematician, the calculating one who likes order. Things aren't adding up.

"It's OK, though." I say. "I have good doctors taking care of me. I'll have to get sick to get better, but I'll be fine after that."

With lowered heads, the boys hold a polite and deferential silence. We continue our walk.

"Jack, you wanna build a fort?" Joe asks.

"No, Joe," Jack replies. "We're playing baseball, remember?"

About baseball:

Sunny and 70 degrees, a gentle breeze is blowing in from Lake Michigan as we settle into our bleacher seats. My husband, Leo, passes down two Cokes, a beer and a Wrigley Field visor to protect me from the sun.

The Cubs lead in the ninth inning when Milwaukee's left fielder cranks one over our heads onto Sheffield Avenue to bring in the winning run for the Brewers. Jack and Joe lean over the railing and watch Sammy Sosa shake his head in disgust.

The beer tastes bitter. I had started chemotherapy a week earlier.

About redecorating:

I'm drawn to a loose seam of wallpaper in the corner of the room. I peel off a long, satisfying swath. I move from panel to panel, stripping all that comes easy. I feel the wall, scrape with my fingernails, yank hard and viscously, over and over.

I'm learning the sad truth about wallpaper. The battle is not so much with the paper, as it is with the glue underneath. Even with DIF, the paste comes off slowly, in tiny wads of goo. I scrape feverishly, angrily at one stubborn patch. As I gouge the wall, the razor pops out of my hand, flips upside down and slices my right wrist.

About breast cancer:

It's been 31⁄2 years since my diagnosis.

On a frigid February morning, with a cup of coffee in one hand, I climb the ladder to Joe's bunk bed.

"C'mon honey," I nudge. "We gotta work on those spelling words."

I place a soft pillow behind my moppy morning hair.

Joe slowly comes to life.

"PROCEED," he mumbles. "P-R-O-C-E-E-D."

As he rattles off words, I sip my coffee and bask in the warmth of his room.

Frost outside the window sparkles in the morning sun. A pirate ship poster wilts from the vapors of Joe's fish tank. My carefully planned navy-amber-white color scheme clashes with his Civil War map and his Kansas City Chiefs pennant.

The gouge in the wall warms my heart, and I reach under the blanket to squeeze Joe's toes.

When I read something powerful -- a quote, a story, a reflection -- I write it down or cut it out or make a copy of it and drop it into a file folder I've titled inspiration. This file, among others, has been on many a moving van and has traveled with me all over the East coast, from city to city, house to house. And every once in a while, when I need a lift, this is my go-to file -- I go to it, pluck something out, and refresh my mind and spirit.

This file has been with me since at least 1997 -- the date on a photo-copied Ann Landers column I have sitting before me. It's 10 years old, but there's nothing dated about the words printed on this single sheet of paper. They are as touching and moving and relevant now as they were when I first read them. They may be even more meaningful today, because of the thread of cancer that is now woven throughout my days.

These are life lessons, offered by a publisher of the Mount Pleasant News in Iowa, for students about to graduate from high school. They go like this:

Dear Graduates:

There is the kind of education you get in school and the kind you get afterward. Both are important. Put them together, and you have wisdom. The trouble is, life is generally half over before you figure out what is going on.

Graduating seniors can save 25 years of trial, error, and hard knocks by memorizing the lessons of life listed below.

On the average, you learn about one big lesson per year after you leave high school. In really tough years, you learn two or three. Some years, you don't learn anything. After 40, you forget things and have to learn them again.

Some of this information is borrowed. Some is stolen. Some may even be original, but that's doubtful. It's pretty hard to be original in a world as old as this one.

25 Things You'll Need To Know After High School

1. Don't sweat the small stuff, and remember, most stuff is small.
2. The most boring word in any language is "I."
3. Nobody is indispensable, especially you.
4. Life is full of surprises. Just say "never" and you'll see.
5. People are more important than things.
6. Persistence will get you almost anything eventually.
7. Nobody can make you happy. Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.
8. There's so much bad in the best of us and so much good in the worst of us that it doesn't behoove any of us to talk about the rest of us.
9. Live by what you trust, not by what you fear.
10. Character counts. Family matters.
11. Eating out with small children isn't worth it, even if someone else is paying.
12. If you wait to have kids until you can afford them, you probably never will.
13. Baby kittens don't begin to open their eyes for six weeks after birth. Men generally take 26 years.
14. The world would run a lot smoother if more men knew how to dance.
15. Television ruins more minds than drugs.
16. Sometimes there is more to gain in being wrong than right.
17. Life is so much simpler when you tell the truth.
18. People who do the world's real work don't usually wear neckties.
19. A good joke beats a pill for a lot of ailments.
20. There are no substitutes for fresh air, sunshine, and exercise.
21. A smile is the cheapest way to improve your looks, even if your teeth are crooked.
22. May you live life so there is standing room only at your funeral.
23. Mothers always know best, but sometimes fathers know too.
24. Forgive your friends and your enemies. You're all only human.
25. If you don't do anything else in life, love someone and let someone love you.

The best cancer treatment centers are not always right around the corner. Sometimes, it's necessary to travel far and wide to reach facilities offering the latest and greatest in cancer therapy. And when a back-and-forth commute is not possible due to daily or long-term treatment protocols, lodging becomes a necessity. And often, a hassle.

If you find yourself confronted with a stressful travel scenario, key into Joe's House. It's sure to ease your burden.

Think about this:

Joe's House is a non-profit organization that serves hospital staff and cancer patients in search of lodging. Founded in 2003 by Ann Calahan who for six years struggled to find appropriate accommodations during her late husband's cancer battle, Joe's House makes life a little easier for those fighting cancer on the road.

Joe's House features a centralized listing of lodging information for patients to access online or with a simple phone call (877-563-7468). For online searches, a drop-down menu allows patients, loved ones, and caregivers to locate lodging by selecting states, cities, and treatment facilities. Details on each lodging facility are available with information on amenities, rates, and reservation methods, and requirements.

I just gave this system a whirl. I chose Florida as my state, Gainesville as my city, and the hospital where I receive my treatment. Up popped four lodging locations -- two are free for cancer patients, one runs $10 per night, and the other charges $77 per night. Fortunately, I live right around the corner from my treatment center. But for those who don't, this service -- it's free -- is definitely worth trying.

OK, we all know young women get breast cancer. But the way some talk about the pair -- young women and the deadly disease -- it would seem finding a young one living with this type of cancer is like locating that needle in a haystack. Many a young woman -- like me -- have heard doctors and nurses and technicians and family and friends remark, "you are too young for the disease," and then dismiss cancer suspicions as needless worry.

The median age for women diagnosed with breast cancer is 65. But think about this fact, published in the Spring/Summer edition of Beyond: Live & Thrive After Breast Cancer.

More than 240,000 women in the United States age 40 and under are living with breast cancer. Each year in this country, more than 14,000 women 40 years old and younger are diagnosed with breast cancer, says Boston oncologist Ann Partridge, M.D., of the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute.

That's a lot of young women. That's a lot of breast cancer. And yet, mammograms still are not recommended for women under the age of 40.

Today I offer you not so much a Thought for the Day but a Question for the Day. Before I ask my pressing question, though, I want you to consider this story.

Diagnosed with a rare malignant melanoma on her retina in 2001, Ann Guthrie, a South Carolina wife and mother of two grown sons, endured radiation and chemotherapy. The treatments shrunk Guthrie's tumor, but another mass appeared two years later, forcing the removal of her right eye.

At about the same time Guthrie lost her eye, cancer was discovered in her lungs. It was inoperable. Then cancer landed in her brain. And now, without any approved treatment avenues, Guthrie is out of options.

Like many people with terminal illnesses, this woman is willing to try just about anything -- a clinical trial, experimental drugs, risky treatments -- to extend her life. If she's going to die anyway, why not? She just might live longer. And if she doesn't, she could at least help advance science by offering herself up as a sort of guinea pig.

While the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has proposed changes that would make it easier for patients to access options like these, it's just not that simple right now.

There are ethical issues -- like weighing the needs of people who think anything is better than death against the need of society to prove drugs and treatments work safely. The only way to ensure a sort of balance is through clinical trials -- and letting anyone participate in clinical trials, for example, would make the results harder to interpret.

And there are medical and legal risks. What if terminally ill patients end up in worse shape after a treatment with an experimental drug, for example? What if the FDA or a physician is considered responsible for adverse drug reactions?

Denying terminal patients their last bits of hope is difficult. "It's a hard discussion to have with a patient and his family," says one doctor. "There's a lot of tears. We all would love to be able to get them access to some form of therapy."

And now for my question:

What do you think about terminally ill cancer patients and their access to anything that might extend -- or save -- their lives?

Virginia Congresswoman Jo Ann Davis announced this week that she has been diagnosed with breast cancer -- again. Her first bout with the disease began in October 2005. Her recurrence was spotted last month during her recovery from an unrelated medical procedure.

Davis, who received both a mastectomy and chemotherapy treatment during her first battle with breast cancer, knows she will conquer cancer for a second time.

"This cancer is treatable," Davis says. "I have just begun chemotherapy and I am very confident of a full recovery. I was able to beat this disease before, and I will beat it once again. I again plan on working throughout this process, and I once again believe that this experience will help me in serving Virginia's First Congressional District."

Davis, who is at home recovering from a ruptured ureter, will return to Washington this month.

Dr. Len Lichtenfeld, MD, is the deputy chief medical officer for the American Cancer Society. He is also a blogger and authors his very own blog -- called Dr. Len's Cancer Blog.

Dr. Len writes on his blog about all sorts of topics related to cancer. He shares his opinion on the recent drop in breast cancer cases (December 15, 2006), he promotes the Great American Smokeout (November 14, 2006), he sounds off on lung cancer screenings (October 25, 2006), and he urges parents to always slather sunscreen on their children (October 5, 2006). He has so much more to say -- and his blog is a great stop for those wishing for more information on hot cancer topics.

As this year comes to a close, Dr. Len offers a review of what he believes were the hottest cancer topics of 2006.

Dr. Len reflects in his blog about decreased cancer death rates that represent real progress in the fight against cancer. He calls the HPV vaccine a breakthrough and he recaps the STAR trial -- a comparison of raloxifene to tamoxifen to reduce the risk of recurrent breast cancer in post-menopausal women -- with emphasis on how raloxifene proved just as effective as tamoxifen, but with a better safety profile. He calls new targeted therapies a dream -- with a hefty price tag -- sure to garner debate and discussion in 2007.

Dr. Len reviews the Surgeon General's report on second-hand smoke -- it's harmful to non-smokers, the report says -- and he marvels at the capability of science to approach an understanding of what makes a cancer cell a cancer cell. He also remarks on how remarkable it is that chronic myelogenous leukemia is in fact chronic and no longer fatal, thanks to the drug Gleevec.

Of course, there is ample attention given to the declining incidence of breast cancer, reportedly due to less women using hormone replacement therapy, and the risks weighing on those who are overweight and obese, and survivors and supporters who gathered for Celebration on the Hill -- the site of one incredible American Cancer Society event.

Dr. Len closes his review of 2006 with recognition of three celebrities who lost their lives this year to cancer -- Dana Reeve, Ann Richards, and Ed Bradley. And while he recognizes there are other lives and other stories that deserve mention, there is simply not enough time or space for him to do justice to every noteworthy item.

"What we have seen over the past year is an incredible leap forward in cancer research, diagnosis and treatment, and I suspect there are going to be even more exciting developments in the coming year," says Dr. Len who looks forward to 2007 -- a year that is sure to deliver more hope and more progress in the fight against cancer.

Photographs tell powerful stories. They depict people and objects and landscapes and emotions in deep, meaningful ways. They capture permanent visual representations of moments in life. They paint pictures that even the most well-crafted words could not reproduce.

When Mary Ann Nilan was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004 at the age of 40, she knew her story must be told -- through pictures. So she asked a photographer to record it all, stating, "I hope the pictures make the road easier for other women." The rest is history.

She calls it a photo essay and titles it The Diary of Healing. For 17 frames -- with photographs dominating each space and text kept to a minimum -- Nilan shares her journey that began with the discovery of breast cancer in both breasts and several lymph nodes, the journey that took her through chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, and reconstruction with implants.

Her photographs document significant stops on her physical and emotional trek. They show her bald head, the wig she wore only once and then let hang on a hook, the scars that crossed her flat chest after surgery, an injection of saline that painfully pierced the skin of her new breasts, her children measuring her hair as it grows in after chemotherapy. The photographs are both hopeful and chilling. They are breast cancer. They are more than words could ever capture.

Ann Richards was the Governor of Texas from 1991 to 1995. She was only the second woman to hold that post. In March of his year she said she was being treated for esophageal cancer. She passed away at the age of 73.

Ann Richards seemed like a spunky lady. When she was nearing sixty she rode a Harley-Davidson motorcycle because she said "I thought I needed to do something kind of jazzy." Ann didn't start her political career until she was in her 40's. She won a seat on the Travis County commission in Austin in 1976.

The 1988 Democratic National Convention is when Ann burst onto the scene. At the keynote address she famously described the syntax-challenged Republican presidential nominee, George H.W. Bush, this way: "Poor George. He can't help it. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth."

She eventually was defeated for the re-election of Governor by Bush's son, and future president, George W. Bush. That was the last time she ran for office. She then worked as consultant and commentator and she served on corporate boards.

One quote she liked that she said summed up the aspiration of women in politics: "Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels."

Hair colorist Jason Backe hopes hair dye does not cause cancer -- because he is covered in it every day in the Manhattan hair salon where he works. But the topic of hair dye and cancer has been on his mind lately -- because he has been fielding questions from clients about the possible link between the two ever since an American Journal of Epidemiology study was released and caused nationwide panic about hair dye upping the odds that women might contract lymphoma -- a cancer of the lymphatic system. But on Thursday, a New York Times article summed up opinions from both experts and hair stylists, revealing that most everyone believes this panic is not necessary.

Recent studies found that those who had ever used hair dye were 1.19 times more likely to get lymphoma than those who had never used it. Those who colored their hair before 1980 -- before then-questionable chemicals were removed from hair dyes -- were 1.39 more times likely to get the disease. Ann Curry on the Today Show said, "These are scary numbers," but Dr. Barnett Kramer, associate director for disease prevention at the National Institute of Health said, "Compared to risk factors for other diseases, those numbers are very small." Smoking makes people 10 to 60 more times likely to get lung cancer. According to Dr. Joseph K. McLaughlin, president of the International Epidemiology institute, if these numbers are true -- and that's a big if -- it would mean that using hair dye may present a remote risk to your health. But it would still be less risky than crossing a street, driving a car, not wearing a seat belt, or drunk driving.

I am not exactly in a panic about this whole issue. But before I heard the news about hair dye and cancer, I did dye my hair -- once. And I don't think I will do it again -- even though the risk may be small -- because I have already had cancer. And any amount of risk associated with any type of cancer is just something I don't want to mess with.