The UK's Cancer Research All Join Together Campaign will sell pink and white rubber ducks for breast cancer awareness month. The rubber duck will raise funds and also come with information on being breast aware.

Lesley Walker, director of cancer information at Cancer Research UK, explains "Relaxing in the bath is an ideal time for women to notice any abnormal change in either breast. It is very important for women to know what is normal for them and bath time is a great time to look for any changes"

Five British women, who are survivors of breast cancer, are portrayed in the campaign that will be displayed in over 600 Cancer Research UK shops nationwide throughout breast cancer awareness month.

Rub a dub dub....

I don't take for granted that I am alive. I am fully aware of it, consciously grateful for it, continually amazed by it. Before I was confronted with breast cancer, I still knew I could die -- in a car accident maybe -- but I thought chances were pretty good that I would make it to a ripe old age. Death was never at the forefront of my mind. I had no reason to believe that life could be snatched from me. And because of this, I am sure some pretty important moments slipped by me, virtually unnoticed. But now -- after a breast cancer diagnosis, surgery, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and then more therapy, I realize life is not a guarantee for anyone. Me included. Even at age 36, I am not safe. I feel confident about my future -- and I believe cancer has left my body -- but my life has been threatened like never before. And that makes me wake up and take notice -- really notice -- the moments that are too important to take for granted.

My first baby boy starts kindergarten today. Before cancer, this still would have been a monumental day for us both. But now, after cancer, it's even bigger. Because I know of several moms who did not survive cancer long enough to see their children walk through their first classroom doors -- moms who thought, like me, that they would surely beat cancer and would see their kids off for every first day of school. So I am lucky to have made it to this day -- to witness the wonder of my sweet, shy, sensitive, challenging, demanding, loving boy as he leaves the comfort of home for the real world.

Two days ago, my littlest guy said, "Mommy, I love you and want to keep you forever." Joey -- the boy whose wisdom should guide him right through his first day of school -- said, "Danny, you can't have mommy forever. One day she will die, and you will never see her again." Fortunately, his harsh meaning was lost on three-year-old Danny who kept playing with whatever toy was occupying him at the time. But his meaning was not lost on me. He spoke the truth. And so I plan to soak up the kindergarten moment this morning -- and photograph it and write about it and cherish it for my days to come. And in two years, I hope to do it again with Danny as he starts off on the same path. With me by his side.

I will share anything and everything about my own experience with breast cancer -- how I found it, how it was removed, how it was treated, how I fared through the whole ordeal, how I'm surviving now. I figure that if I spread the word about what happened to me, that others will become more aware and some -- especially those with a new diagnosis -- will benefit from whatever wisdom I have to impart. So I am an open book. I talk about breast cancer, answer questions about breast cancer, and probably insert my opinion about the topic to some who don't really care. But I will continue talking and sharing -- and writing -- because the alternative would be a disservice to the few I may be able to help.

So a card stuck in the middle of a magazine caught my eye the other day. The slogan on it reads, Tell Someone and the illustrations on this card -- that functions as a postcard -- show women reaching out to other women. There are women talking on the phone and a woman tapping another on the shoulder. The message they appear to be spreading is highlighted in the text below the graphic representation of this campaign to raise awareness of cervical cancer. The message is about HPV -- human papillomavirus -- and about how millions of women already have it and how some don't even know they have it. I learned from reading this card that for some, HPV will clear on its own. But for some, cervical cancer may develop. This is why Pap tests are critical. And so what all women should be telling other women is this -- ask your doctor about the importance of Pap tests. And be active in your own health. And follow all recommendations for detecting health concerns early. I learned from reading this card that I should tell someone about this. And so now I have.

My mom goes for a mammogram today -- which reminds me of a time when this test meant nothing to me, a time when all I needed to know was that women my mom's age went for this procedure that squashes and squeezes and manipulates breasts so that pictures can be taken and tissue can be studied. I thought that I would be 40 years old when I went for my own mammogram and that I would casually learn that everything looked normal -- that breast cancer was of no concern. But it didn't happen this way -- instead I went for my first mammogram at age 34, six years earlier than recommended, because I felt an odd lump. And I learned that cancer was of concern. I learned that I had breast cancer. And so now, as I am about to turn 36, I have had three mammograms and will return every six months for the rest of my life for this test. By age 40, I'll be a pro.

I once thought a family history of breast cancer trickled down from the older women in a family -- that a grandmother might have it first, then her daughter, then her daughter. Like a chain reaction. But now I know that family history can start with anyone, at any age. I started this chain in my family.  And there is no telling whether or not the chain will break or will hold strong. So the women in my family are now followed almost as closely as I am. And mammograms occur frequently for us all.

I was once unaffected by my mom's mammograms.  Now I am more aware, more prepared for the seriousness of this exam, more humbled because of my own experience. And today I hope that my mom learns casually that everything looks normal -- that breast cancer is of no concern.

I have had many moments in my life where anxiety and panic have filled my mind. But this is normal and necessary really as life delivers all kinds of situations that produce all sorts of emotions.

I can recall vividly anxious feelings before a school exam but this is what motivated me to study and prepare and to pass the exam with flying colors. This anxiety gave me a push, a kick in the pants -- in a good, healthy way.

Without a bit of panic, I may not have cared. I may have been aloof to the importance of doing well in school. But while life has presented me with a good amount of this healthy emotion, it has also tossed an abundance of unhealthy anxiety and panic my way -- the kind that has consumed my mind and twisted my insides. The kind that made peaceful living seem impossible.