Advertising executive and author Lois Wyse died Friday at her Manhattan home of stomach cancer. She was 80.

Perhaps best known for her famous slogan, With a name like Smucker's, it has to be good, Wyse -- who founded Wyse Advertising with her first husband Marc and went on to win the J.M. Smucker Company account -- was also the brains behind this name: Bed, Bath & Beyond. The small retail chain began as Bed and Bath. Wyse thought it would fare better with a more complete name.

Wyse was a powerful woman in business. Her company was chosen to create the first television advertising campaign for New Woman magazine. She was was the first woman on the board of the Consolidated Natural Gas Company and the Higbee Company, and she was a founding member of both the Committee of 200, a group of women with executive jobs, and of Catalyst, a women's research organization.

For many young people, the risk of wrinkling is a bigger tanning deterrent than the risk of skin cancer. How's that for some misplaced worry?

Now if the wrinkle-worry gets these youngsters to stop tanning, then I'm happy. Still, it amazes me that warnings about skin cancer still are not taken seriously.

"We don't know for sure, but there's some suggestive evidence that young people are more influenced by thinking about themselves getting old faster, than thinking about themselves getting a skin cancer," says one doctor.

The final nine episodes of HBO's Sunday night hit The Sopranos feature the stuff of life. You know -- blood, guts, betrayal, angst, and cancer. It's not quite the stuff of my life, well, except for the cancer part.

Actor Vince Curatola, who plays Johnny "Sack" Sacramoni, powerfully weaves cancer into the end of this popular television drama. Diagnosed with lung cancer, his character is given three months to live -- in a prison hospital bed.

Johnny Sack says very little in the last episodes. He does gasp to his wife in episode two, "I'm very, very sick," but he lacks the lung capacity to muster up much more. He disease is considered stage four.

The cancer depictions -- one shows Johnny Sack shuffling down a long corridor in his hospital robe, oxygen tank dragging behind -- are right on, say those who've taken an early peek at the shows. And reportedly, the cancer scenes pretty accurately reflect the concerns of the larger culture -- where cancer has become an epidemic that sadly, won't come to end in nine episodes.

I've read stories about women whose breast cancer diagnoses were delayed because they explained away certain symptoms. One woman, an athlete, was told by her husband one day that her nipple looked different from the other. "It's probably just the jog bra I've been wearing all day," she assured him. They both moved on.

Some time later, this woman learned that her different nipple was a sign of breast cancer. And she had it. She just didn't know it. And so her diagnosis came late. Eight years later, this young mother of two small children died from a disease she explained away.

This is normal -- the art of explaining away all the odd messages our bodies give us. Perhaps it's the stigma of whining about every little ache and pain that keeps us from pursuing immediate medical attention. It could be the likelihood that our complaints are pretty normal, so we refrain from rushing to judgment.

I'm practicing this well-established art right now. It's odd for me because I've already had breast cancer, and I am usually ultra-sensitive to every twinge of pain I feel. So when I woke this morning, with a tight and aching feeling in my chest, one would have thought I'd be racing out the door, headed for the nearest emergency room. I considered the fact that perhaps I need to be seen, that a chest X-ray might be in order, but I took no action -- because I explained the feeling away. It went something like this:

It must be the way I slept. I slept in a different bed, with one child and one dog, and I don't think I moved an inch all night.

The feeling gets less intense with time. At this moment, I can only feel something -- and it's very mild -- if I inhale deeply.

If I have the same feeling tomorrow morning, I will pursue it -- no, I won't pursue it just yet because I wont' be sleeping in my own bed for a few more nights. I'll wait until I get back to my own bed and see what happens. Maybe this bed is not good for me.

This goes on and on. For me, I think it happens because I suspect nothing really is wrong with me. Perhaps I am dismissing something serious but mostly, I'm chalking this behavior to progress. Because there was a day when I ran to the dentist for a bump on the roof of my mouth -- it was nothing -- and I cried to get myself a next-day mammogram for some lumpy tissue I was convinced was cancer -- it wasn't -- and now, I am happy to feel more like a normal person. I am happy to have perfected my new art, which incidentally I will abandon in an instant if the discomfort persists.

My husband says he's had this feeling before when getting out of bed. I think I'm going to be OK.

Seven sweet, simple words were hurled at me last night by my oldest child, Joey -- the boy who makes me as crazy as he does happy.

Joey, six, was all snuggled in bed, cozy with his soft blankets, squishy pillows, and three favorite stuffed puppies. I gave him my usual speech -- Sweet dreams. I love you. Now don't get out of bed -- and then made my usual trek to another room for some me-time. My trip was stopped short, though, because a strong urge inspired me to reverse my steps and return to Joey.

"What are you doing, mommy?" Joey asked as I walked back into the room.

"I thought I'd come rest with you for a little bit," I told him. "Is that OK?" I asked, knowing full well any excuse to avoid sleep is just fine with him

Joey sat straight up, pure joy coloring his tired face. I took this to mean he welcomed my return. And so I crawled into bed and hugged Joey tight. And that's when he spoke the seven words that caused tears to pour from my eyes -- the kind of tears that spill out when the human body can no longer harness its emotion.

The words:

"Mommy, I love you so, so much."

Ever since Joey blessed me with these words, I can't seem to get one thought out of my head.

The thought:

God, I hope I survive cancer long enough to hold this boy in my arms until he is all grown up, until he is wrapping his arms around his own loving child.

I really hope this is not too much to ask.

Oh no. I think I 'm headed for melanoma. At the very least, I seem to have a very high risk for developing the disease, thanks to my once-stubborn pursuit of a silly tan.

Think about this:

A review of seven different studies concludes that using a tanning bed under the age of 35 -- I'm so guilty -- can increase the risk of melanoma by 75 percent. Even those who have ever used indoor tanning were 15 percent more likely to develop the disease.

We're talking the deadliest form of skin cancer here. So deadly some experts are recommending strong measures to restrict the use of tanning beds by young people. Adults should be discouraged from tanning, some say, but access should be limited for those under the age of 18.

New Jersey already has regulations in place -- those under 14 are banned from tanning salons and anyone between 14 and 18 must have parental consent.

If I could turn back time, I would listen to my grandma. She told me the sun -- and tanning beds too -- were no good. But I was young. And I didn't care.

Now I'm older. And I care. But it may be too late. It seems this could be one lesson I learn the hard way.

For those of you living for the moment, you are about to lose 60 whole minutes come Sunday when Daylight-saving time strikes once again.

This may throw you off a bit if you are one to maximize every second, minute, and hour you are afforded in this tenuous life. And while I can't offer you any secrets for recapturing this lost time, I can share some thoughts, compliments of professional organizer Linda Richards of Organize and More, on how you might compensate for Sunday's lost hour.

Think about this:

• Go to bed 15 minutes earlier and get up 15 minutes earlier starting a few days before the time change.
• Move any important meetings to later in the week so you body isn't as tired.
• Snack on healthy foods such as fruits and nuts to replenish energy.
• Shorten your to-do list to your top three to five priorities.
• Print out a copy of your calendar and appointments for March and make sure your computer has a patch to handle the earlier time change this year.
  

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."
  

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.

Once in awhile, I come across a story and all I am left wondering is -- how did that happen?! Here's another story for the how did that happen file. Derek Kirchen, 67, a retired construction worker, kept collapsing and he kept getting pneumonia. While the doctors said that could not be sure to the reasons why Kirchen was suffering in this way, they guessed it might be due to lung cancer -- even though the tests and x-rays failed to indicate he had the definitive signs of lung cancer. But that was their best guess -- lung cancer. An alarming suggestion to make to someone suffering symptoms with no other explanation. Kirchen was scheduled for exploratory surgery and what the surgeon found surprised everyone. When the black lump was removed from Kirchen's left lung, it turned out to be a cashew. Kirchen says he hasn't had a cashew since Christmas 2004.

In the news feature, Kirchen is quoted as saying, "I just don't know how it got there. It's a complete mystery. When I came round all the nurses were giggling, as they couldn't believe it was a nut. I can't remember choking on a nut. It's ironic really as I don't even like the darned things." Better a cashew than cancer. It's an odd but happy ending.

And not to make disparaging comparisons to one part of the world over another, but of all the news stories that seem most fit for the how did that happen file, two others occurred in the same part of the world. I refer you to the lung cancer patient found smoldering in his hospital bed and the one where surgeons removed a healthy kidney and left the patient with only one kidney -- the kidney riddled with cancerous tumors. The stories about George McGarry and John Heron did not have such a happy ending. It makes you wonder though -- is the medical community there different than elsewhere -- or are these events happening elsewhere but simply not making the news?

Want to lose weight and cut your cancer risks associated with weight gain? Get more sleep. Researchers found that women who slept for five hours per night were 32 percent more likely to experience major weight gain and 15 percent more likely to become obese compared with women who slept seven hours a night.

While researchers are certain about the results of the study, they cannot explain why women who get less sleep gain more weight. "Prior studies have shown that after just a few days of sleep restriction, the hormones that control appetite cause people to become hungrier, so we thought that women who slept less might eat more. But in fact they ate less," stated Sanjay Patel, M.D., Assistant Professor of Medicine at Case Western Reserve University. "That suggests that appetite and diet are not accounting for the weight gain in women who sleep less." They speculate it might be women who sleep less are more tired and somehow not moving as much during the day.

Wake me when the sun comes back. If you live in the northern states, October through March can be a day-after-day dismal parade of gray sky. By about February, there are some of us who have pulled the covers over our collective heads and seem to have trouble mustering any energy to get up and get going. It's depressing. Whereas, when the sun shines, the mood lifts and the energy level increases. One remedy for combating the natural gloom of the winter months is to visit a tanning salon. Tanning salons are big business and perhaps being bronzy-brown isn't the only reason people are really using them. Obviously, natural or artificial, the sun has a real effect on our sense of well-being. But why is that?

Researchers, in attempting to discover the lure of tanning beds -- and why -- despite repeated warnings of the skin cancer dangers associated with tanning bed use, there are people who still visit tanning salons on a frequent basis, believe they have found the answer in addiction. Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Center researcher explained that the results of a study on tanning bed use showed that some tanners actually experience withdrawal symptoms when the feel-good chemicals stimulated by exposure to UV rays are blocked. Researchers administered a drug that blocks the effects of pleasure-inducing endorphins and other opioids that are naturally released by the brain and which have been associated with the UV light of a tanning bed. The results? At higher doses of the blocking medication, frequent tanners were less inclined to tan, and half of them reported nausea or jitteriness. In a previous study, these same researchers found that people using UV tanning beds were more relaxed afterward than people who used beds that did not have UV light.

If you understand addiction as merely a way to self-medicate in a misguided attempt to feel better when you aren't feeling good, then the tanning bed addiction theory makes sense. Until they can address and solve the problem behind the problem of tanning bed use, then all the skin cancer awareness campaigns will be in vain.