I've been thinking a lot about this quote, offered by Robert A. Emmons, Ph.D and author of Thanks! How the New Science of Gratitude Can Make You Happier:

"individuals who approach life with an attitude that all of life is a gift will be more likely to find the good in bad life circumstances. They are more likely to move forward following a catastrophe. In fact, they may be more likely to label such an event a gift."

Ever since I read these words in the August 2007 issue of The Oprah Magazine, I've been contemplating the value of finding something good in every bad life scenario. It's what I've done with cancer. I've convinced myself my disease was merely a bump in the road. Only a bump, though. I choose to focus on the joy, not the despair, that came with my cancer encounter.

This is exactly what I tried to convey in this post. And this one too.

Luanne Austin says chemotherapy is not all it's cracked up to be. She doesn't mean it's cracked up to be something really great but is far from such a thing. She means it's cracked up to be something pretty horrible but is really not all that bad.

Austin says the day her doctor announced she would receive chemotherapy was almost as bad as the day she learned she had breast cancer. That's because she had heard nothing but bad things about the treatment. She expected to be laying in bed with her life in the balance -- nauseated, vomiting, sick -- as the "cure" killed her.

All expectations aside, Austin decided to tackle chemotherapy with a positive attitude. This may seem a daunting task -- turning a dreaded chemotherapy protocol into a not-so-bad experience -- but Austin mastered the task. And here are seven of her positive thoughts about a treatment that is not all it's cracked up to be.

• Austin talked to people who had traveled journeys similar to hers. What she learned is that many women continued working through treatment. Some suffered very few side effects. One woman even told Austin her experience was super. Austin was inspired by the positive women she tracked down. And now she inspires others.
  

• Austin did some reading. She learned that chemotherapy drugs target quickly-dividing cells, like cancer cells, red and white blood cells, blood platelets, and digestive tract cells. Learning about the process helped her realize chemotherapy was intended to make her well, not make her suffer.

• Austin learned how to support her body through treatment. She came to understand that the best chance of surviving breast cancer comes from conventional medicine -- surgery, chemotherapy, radiation -- but that alternative treatments can complement the traditional approach. She recommends the book Breast Cancer: Beyond Convention and considers her pursuit of a healthy diet, exercise, supplements, and a good night's sleep some of her most helpful chemotherapy add-ons.

• When Austin felt weak, tired, and just plain zoned out, she retreated to her bed with a good book and a cup of tea. Instead of considering it a setback, she called this downtime a good excuse to spend hours reading.

• Austin found relief from her nurses. They were terrific, she recalls, and professional and friendly and respectful too. Getting to know her medical crew -- and receiving hugs from them at the end of her treatment -- confirmed chemotherapy has some good points.

• For Austin, God -- who carried her through her whole journey -- was instrumental in her positive outlook. She felt lifted up and carried, she says.

• And then there's love -- pure and simple love from her husband and family members -- that allows her to conclude that chemotherapy is not so bad. "I'd have to say chemotherapy hasn't been all that bad," she says. "Not bad at all."
  

My nose was buried in books just after my breast cancer diagnosis. I craved information and thought the pursuit and acquisition of it would somehow help me gain control over a seemingly uncontrollable disease.

For the most part, reading helps me. But sometimes, I read too much -- "Stop reading", my oncologist instructed me one day after I rambled off a bunch of worries I'd gathered from research -- and I've been known to get overwhelmed by statistics and numbers and theories and clinical jargon. When this happens, I usually find refuge in the personal stories of women living with breast cancer. Those who have weathered the cancer storm are often the real experts on cancer and know how to sift through the details, offering just what's important to all who follow.

For more than a decade, two-time breast cancer survivor Pat McRee searched for the perfect guide she could recommend for women she saw at the Flying Colors cancer resource and support center she directs.

"Too long," "Too detailed," "Overwhelming," "Just plain scary," were the responses she heard about the books she had found.

So she decided to think outside the book, to create her own support guide. An unbook is what she calls it. And it's not too long, too detailed, too overwhelming, or too scary.

Support to Go, The Unbook for the Journey through Breast Cancer is instead a compilation of survivor secrets, affirmations, inspiring quotations, poetry, song lyrics, attitude buttons, funny anecdotes, and referrals to expert resources in oncology, radiology, surgery, psychology, and complementary therapies.

McRee considers her book a support group of sorts, a place where survivors can turn their wild rides into unforgettable journeys.

Valerie Monroe, beauty director for The Oprah Magazine, writes a monthly column -- Ask Val -- that appears on the pages of Oprah's feel-good publication. She responds to questions about make-up, skin care, hair care, and overall body care too.

In her February 2007 column, Val writes, "Many of you have written to tell me that you began to be less critical of your body when you appreciated the things it could do." As I read this, I had what Oprah would call an Aha! moment, a moment when something just clicks and makes sudden sense. Aha!, I thought, as I considered all the things my body can do, completely independent of how I look on the outside. So while I was jogging today -- my body can now easily run three miles -- I ran through all of my body's accomplishments, and I stored them in the files of my mind so I could later write them down.

Here are seven things my body can do. As you read them, consider your own body -- its strength, its power, its capacity for greatness -- and remind yourself of your wondrous self the next time you start to criticize the way you look.

• My body can partner in the creation of human life. It can carry babies and deliver them and love them and care for them and raise them. Not all bodies have this power. I am lucky.

• My body can climb an attic staircase, crawl into cramped and dark corners, pull large boxes out of wedged spaces, drag them back to the staircase, and walk backwards down the stairs with goods balancing on my head so that I can fulfill the wish my five-year-old child who wanted so badly in early November to assemble our Christmas tree and decorate our house for the holidays. "Let's wait until Daddy gets home," I told Joey when I found myself crammed into a tiny space in the attic, wrestling with a heavy box full of artificial tree parts. "You can do it, Mommy," Joey said. "You are strong." And so I fought my way through the frustrating feat because I was afraid of the lessons I would teach this little boy if I didn't. In the end, it was Joey who taught me the lesson. I can do it. I am strong.
  

• My body can endure and conquer a 5K run when it once could barely run around the block. With a little extra effort and push, I think my body can accomplish even more.

• My body, once weak and without definition, can lift increasingly heavy weight and can generate muscle tone. It can even do push-ups -- real push-ups. It takes dedication and practice and persistence and mental toughness too. But I see progress. I feel progress. And I want more.

• My body can help others. I can use my fingers to type words on a keyboard that will reach friends and family and people I don't even know. My words can inform and support and encourage and heal. I can use my hands and my semi-creative talents to create hand-made gifts, to cook and deliver very mediocre meals for friends in need, to massage my husband's sore back, to braid my niece's beautiful hair and paint her tiny nails. I can use my arms to hug my little boys with all my might. I can use my voice to communicate, my ears to listen, my senses to feel.
  

• My body can tolerate surgery and chemotherapy and radiation and horrible allergic reactions to antibiotics. My body was badly beaten by a treatment protocol intended to cure me of a disastrous disease. And somehow, in some way, it survived.
  

• My body killed cancer. With the aid of medical intervention and a hopeful attitude, my body overcame the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. And if it could do nothing else, I would be truly happy for this one thing my body can do.
  

The power of positivity is subjective when it comes to cancer survival. There are those who argue that keeping up a positive attitude puts too much pressure on cancer patients. I think it depends on who you are at the time of cancer diagnosis, and what your individual personality style is in facing adversity, that is far more relevant to being a survivor.

Last Wednesday, when the news broke that Farrah Fawcett had been diagnosed with cancer, she asked that her privacy be respected. As is the case with most celebrities, it was not likely to happen. We have seen almost constant coverage in the details of her cancer diagnosis and treatment, and the paparazzi have captured in photographs her every movement.

With over 30 celebrities including actor Cheech Marin, NFL MVP John Elway, World Series of Poker Champion Mel Judah, Hall of Fame Philly Mike Schmidt, Cock Blocker Clothing creator Mark James is raising money for the Philadelphia Breast Cancer 3Day Breast Cancer Foundation fundraiser by holding an eBay auction of celebrity-autographed Cock Blocker Clothing items. The auction is live now and will run through October 1, 2006 8PM (PST).

Supporting breast cancer research is personal for James of Cock Blocker Clothing, whose mother survives her own diagnosis of breast cancer. He wants to help other women who are going through the same struggles as his mother in contributing to something that can make a positive difference.

In addition to the celebrity-autographed Cock Blocker Clothing online eBay auction, James will be participating in Philadelphia's Breast Cancer 3Day fundraiser, where participants will walk 60 miles in three days, with each participant raising at least $10,000 dollars for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.

To help with the cause, you can bid on celebrity-autographed Cock Blocker Clothing during the eBay auction, or donate directly to the 3Day event. The Philadelphia Breast Cancer 3Day Walk will take place on October 4 through the 6th.

"Please remember, all of us have the power to change lives and contribute to society," states James. Visit to learn more about the Cock Blocker Clothing fight against breast cancer.

Kids can be so positive and encouraging, even in the face of sickness. Now today my kids have just a simple sickness -- nothing life-threatening -- that I'm sure will pass in a day or so. They are throwing up every content of their little tummies -- even sips of water -- and they are pale and lethargic and run-down. But still, they have hope for a brighter tomorrow. This morning, five-year-old Joey said to me while resting in my bed and just after he threw up , "this is just the good getting rid of the bad." He went on to explain how the good in our bodies knows when to push the bad out. And this is what is happening to him today, he said. He is throwing up the bad so the good can take over. Simple. Easy. Makes sense.

I never saw my own sickness like this. Instead of visualizing chemotherapy as a good agent that kills bad cells, I was repulsed by the horrific liquids that poisoned my body. I knew of people who were able to turn chemotherapy into a Pac-Man game -- with Pac Man chomping away at the cancer cells and leaving nothing but healthy cells to thrive. And I knew people who were relieved to feel sick because it meant the chemotherapy was working. I never saw it like this -- although I do know that chemotherapy may have saved me from a life with cancer. I was discouraged by chemotherapy. I had a negative attitude about it, and I had to really gear up for all of my infusions. I still -- more than one year later -- cannot eat anything I ate on my chemo days. The mere thought of these foods makes me feel ill.

A pediatrician friend of mine told me that kids with cancer tend to be positive. There are a few old souls, she said, but for the most part, they continue to tackle life with spirit and adventure and simplicity. Like my boys today who are peacefully napping at the moment so everything good in their bodies can come back with a vengeance.

Take it one day at a time.
Get a good cry one time.
Find someone to talk to, not talk to you.
Watch, listen to everything funny.
It ain't over.
Pray. -- Tips from the Trenches

Flying Colors is a community support center of The Memphis Cancer Foundation. If you live in the Memphis area, it sounds like an excellent place to visit and meet others facing cancer and surviving cancer who can help you learn techniques to regain control emotionally, psychologically, and physically.

They provide a lending library, one-on-one counseling and activities. However, if you don't live close enough to visit in person, the Flying Colors website offers a variety of information for cancer patients.

You can read Affirmations, add your name to the Chain of Hope, send e-Cards, meditate on the Mindless Meditations, join the Society for Silly Survivors, read Tips from the Trenches and survivors sharing poetry and stories. There's much more in wonderful content but this gives you an idea of what to expect when you visit the Flying Colors website. I got lost in there for a time. It's nicely done.

"It's said that chemotherapy is like skiing in front of an avalanche. You do one thing wrong, and the avalanche is going to get you." -- Harvey Rushfeldt

Using the principles he learned in Alcoholics Anonymous, AA, helped Harvey Rushfeldt, 72, diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma last October, create a strategy for successfully living through the often grueling ordeal of chemotherapy. Rushfeldt sees both cancer and alcoholism as mortal threats and he approached his cancer treatments with the same 12 step attitude and perspectives alcoholics adopt on the one-day-at-a-time road to recovery.

According to the National Cancer Institute, one out of two men and one out of three women will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetime, and three out of four American families will have at least one family member diagnosed with cancer. Those statistics are so overwhelming in scope that it takes a minute before it sinks in just how epidemic cancer is and how many lives it touches. And even after the reality of the numbers has become a reality in my mind, I am still always surprised when I find out someone has been diagnosed with cancer, or someone they are related to has died of cancer.

I was happily and distractedly researching information for something entirely unrelated to cancer -- a recently released animated movie based on a favorite comic strip Over The Hedge -- when in an interview with Bruce Willis, who is the voice of RJ the raccoon in the movie, shared his philosophy about life and living. Willis lost his younger brother to pancreatic cancer five years ago. In the interview Willis remarks:

The doctor was a friend. When he learned I had been diagnosed with cancer, he leaned towards me and said, "Stay close to nature."

Connecting to the cycles and seasons of nature; smelling the rich earth held in the hand; tasting time that does not go too fast or too slow but is eternally measured in the spaces of now; this is where the convergence of the physical and spiritual worlds meet most directly and I find myself standing in the middle with an awareness that any separation was only a misunderstanding on my part. To remember life, sometimes you need to find your way back to its most natural forms.

It is good to express a matter in two ways simultaneously so as to give it both a right foot and a left. Truth can stand on one leg, to be sure; but with two it can walk. -- Nietzsche

Integrated medicine combines mainstream western medical practices with complementary and alternative therapies -- two ways simultaneously -- giving medical treatments both a right foot and a left, in providing optimal outcomes. Seek a second opinion, and a third opinion, and a fourth opinion, if necessary, until you are comfortable that the chosen course of treatment feels right for you -- and is one you can believe in completely.

I was hospitalized twice last year for chemo-induced fever and low blood counts. My first stay came at a busy time -- the hospital's oncology floor was full and there was no space for me. So I was admitted to the bone marrow transplant unit as an overflow patient and suddenly -- even in my very sick and compromised state -- I became the healthiest person on the floor. My white blood count was 700 -- sounded pretty bad to me -- but some of the patients staying on this floor with me had no blood counts because in order to receive a transplant, their own bone marrow is completely depleted in order to prepare for new bone marrow. Patients on this floor are considered pretty healthy when their counts reach 500. I was considered sick and was hospitalized at 700. Adults and children on this floor stay in rooms behind glass panels and with special -- and loud -- air flow systems that push germs out of the room. Visitors must wear gowns and shoe covers and must wash their hands before entering the rooms. Patients might stay on this floor for months at a time, receiving chemotherapy and preparing for their eventual bone marrow transplants. Some patient rooms are decorated and arranged just like home. Parents prepare rooms for children with play areas and craft areas and television areas. This floor is home to many sick children -- and this is what affected me most. For my five days on the bone marrow transplant unit, I gained an up-close and personal look at what many parents and children encounter when cancer derails their lives. It was so much more than I had to encounter. It must be quite an undertaking to prepare a child for this experience.

I picked up a coloring book the day I was discharged and walked off this floor and back into my own life. It's a coloring book that comes from The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and is made by bone marrow transplant patients for children preparing for their own transplants. There is a poster for children to color and hang on their hospital room walls that says I Will Get Well, there is a page that terms chemo and radiation as Laser Rays and Guard Dogs and pages that help children visualize happy moments -- like playing a favorite sport or activity and jumping rope in the warm sunshine. This book reminds children that it is okay to cry and it even includes a prescription: Make sure you get at least one hug every day!

The overall message of this coloring book, which is stated in writing is, "A good attitude does not mean being cheerful all the time; it just means that you know that this is necessary to help fight your cancer."  Well said. And something I will always remember.

The life I touch for good will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt. -- Frederick Buechner

I cannot name them by name or hold the image of their faces in my mind, because I do not know their names and I have not seen their faces. I do carry each of them in my grateful heart for every morning that I wake again. The research renegades and rebels of convention, the pioneers of radical thought and original perspective exploring unmapped microscopic territories, and the altruistic money movers and policy makers. Most of all, I am indebted in ways I may never be able to repay, to the women who volunteered for clinical trials and experimental treatments that may or may not have helped them live longer, but led to the current treatments that help me to live longer.

The number of lives who have touched my life are counted the same as the number of stars in the clear night sky, and I, in turn, now do what I can to touch the lives of others, others that will never know me by name or hold the image of my face in their mind, as part of the continuum and connection of the healing and the healed.

Yoga can promote a greater sense of well-being, peace of mind and help cancer patients sleep more soundly, according to previous studies. Can Tibetan yoga relieve the side effects of chemotherapy? The National Cancer Institute, NCI, is interested in finding out and has awarded the University of Texas M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston $2.4 million dollars to continue research to determine if practicing Tibetan yoga can minimize chemotherapy side effects for  breast cancer patients as they undergo treatment. Tibetan yoga involves practices like controlled breathing, mindfulness and visualization. Once shrouded in mystery and considered a secret yoga practiced only by Tibetan monks, it is less known in the West than yoga practices from the Indian tradition, such as hatha yoga.

According to Lorenzo Cohen, Ph.D., director of the Integrative Medicine Program at M. D. Anderson, while the study is designed to look at improvements in quality of life, it could be that Tibetan yoga offers health benefits as well. "Theoretically, if the Tibetan yoga intervention is found to decrease the patient's stress level, it could have an impact on their immune system," Cohen says. "There is extensive evidence showing that stress suppresses cell-mediated immunity, a component of the immune system involved in tumor surveillance. Tibetan yoga also might have an impact on a patient's hormonal activity."