Walking into my cancer center waiting room is one of my most sobering experiences. I enter this room -- jam-packed full of men, women, and children -- every three months for a breast cancer follow-up. It never gets easier. It always startles me, stirs my emotions, makes me realize how so many people are touched by such a treacherous and all-consuming disease. The fact that I sit in this room, that I am one of these many people, still doesn't seem real.

It's been almost three years since I got a phone call from a surgeon declaring, "You have cancer." I didn't believe it then. Even after all I've been through -- surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and more -- I hardly believe it now. But it's real. I have scars and new hair and a whole new set of worries to prove it.

Walking into that waiting room proves it's real. There's nothing like it. There's also nothing like walking out, with a clean bill of health and the promise of three more months.

Bill Walsh, builder of an NFL dynasty with his 49ers of the 1980s, died of leukemia Monday at his San Francisco Bay. Walsh, known as The Genius for his innovative, pass-oriented attack, was 75.

Walsh was 102-63-1 with the 49ers and won three Super Bowls and six divisional titles in just 10 years. He was named Coach of the Year in 1981 and 1984 and was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1993. He served twice as the 49ers' general manager and coached at Stanford after leaving the 49ers.

"His coaching accomplishments speak for themselves, but the essence of Bill Walsh was he was an extraordinary teacher," says NFL commissioner Roger Goodell. "If you gave him a blackboard and a piece of chalk, he would become a whirlwind of wisdom. He revolutionized the game with his offense and will always be remembered as one of the most influential people in NFL history."

Original ABC Wide World of Sports announcer Bill Flemming, also known for broadcasting college football, golf, and Olympic events, died last Friday of prostate cancer. He was 80.

Before sports fans were watching televised football games all weekend long -- and then watching on-going highlights on ESPN -- they were listening to Fleming's Sunday afternoon run-down of the previous day's games. He offered fans a glimpse into matches from other regions, and he traveled all over these same regions if it meant capturing a story. He announced 11 Olympics and more than 600 Wide World of Sports events. He once shuttled from hurling in Ireland to car racing in Santa Monica, California, to a parachuting contest in Bavaria, all in just one month.

Named Norman Flemming on the day he was born in 1926, this man grew up in the Chicago area, moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan as a high school student, and was a member of Ann Arbor High School's state championship football team in 1943. He was also co-captain of the basketball team. He came by athletics naturally. Speech, his eventual college major, was another love. In 1949, he won a campus-wide speech contest and landed the grand prize: a summer job at WUOM, the campus radio station. He worked his way up to sports director. And then his career took off.

Connecticut Governor M. Jodi Rell is a cancer survivor. And so she knows the pain and heartbreak associated with the disease. Still, she vetoed a bill that would have allowed people with serious illnesses to use marijuana for medicinal purposes. It's just too problematic and sends mixed messages to children, Rell said in a statement last Tuesday.

The decision was a struggle for the Republican Rell, who was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004 and underwent a mastectomy just after taking office. Had she not vetoed the bill, those older than 18 with medical conditions such as cancer, multiple sclerosis, and AIDS would have been permitted to grow and use medical marijuana plants with written permission from a doctor and after registering with the state.

Twelve states allow patients to use medical marijuana despite federal laws forbidding it. Connecticut, for now, will not be joininig these states.

Bill France Jr., the man who helped build Daytona International Speedway and built NASCAR into a nationwide billion-dollar conglomerate, died Monday at his Daytona Beach, Fla. home. France had been diagnosed with cancer in 1999 -- he never publicly disclosed any details about his disease -- and had been in poor health for much of the past 10 years. He was 74.

"He had a remarkable career and an even more remarkable life," said his son, Brian France, who replaced him as chairman in 2003. "Words cannot express how much he'll be missed by myself and the rest of our family and by the NASCAR industry overall."

France spent 31 years as NASCAR chairman and earned himself a reputation as a benevolent dictator. He rarely compromised yet always did what was best for NASCAR. France's passing is a huge loss for the sport.

White House Press Secretary Tony Snow popped in for an unexpected visit on Bill O'Reilly's Radio Factor on Wednesday with the purpose of clearing up a certain cancer matter.

"Some of this has been misreported," Snow told O'Reilly in reference to his recent cancer recurrence.

"I do not have liver cancer," Snow said. "There are a number of small tumors that are in my abdominal cavity; they have not hit any other organs."

Snow, 51, said there is also no cancer traveling through his bloodstream and that he plans to return to work after recovering from the surgery he had two weeks ago to remove tumors from his abdomen.

Although his cancer is not threatening his life -- he says if the tumors didn't grow from now until the time he died, he would be absolutely fine -- Snow will still receive chemotherapy to "drive this sucker into remission," he said.

Snow began battling cancer in 2005 when he was diagnosed with colon cancer, had his colon removed, and underwent several months of chemotherapy.

Breast cancer survivor and Grammy- winning rock star Sheryl Crow was on Capital Hill last week where she urged Congress to pass a bill that would provide funds for research into the possible connection between breast cancer and the environment.

The Breast Cancer and Environmental Research Act -- predicted to pass, by the way -- would allocate $40 million for study into an area not receiving much attention.

"We're looking into all these different scientific methods, with gene therapy with stem cells, it's all very encouraging but we have not tapped into the area of the environment," Crow says. "We have to look at the environment, we cannot ignore it anymore."

This same bill was defeated last year in the Senate but Senator Harry Reid (D-Nevada) says that was then, this is now.

"We're going to complete this legislation in the Senate this year," he said.

Elizabeth Edwards, wife of Democratic presidential candidate John Edwards, has had many routine medical follow-ups since her 2004 breast cancer diagnosis. And all of them -- until just a few days ago -- resulted in what is generally termed a clean bill of health.

The term doesn't always come with a sense of relief for those of us surviving breast cancer -- or any cancer for that matter -- because it only really defines what our bodies are telling us at one specific moment. There are no magic blood tests, no special body scans, no conclusive ways of determining whether or not cancerous cells have gone astray and will one day surface again.

I asked my oncologist after my first six-month follow-up how he would know if my cancer returns. He told me it's really up to me to determine whether it comes back. It's up to me to get mammograms and ultrasounds and MRIs. It's up to me to report any symptoms and suspicions. It's up to me to track my general well-being so that it will be clear when something feels not-so-right. If I have a persistent cough or headaches that won't subside, my doctor will take action with X-rays and scans and tests. But as long as I feel fine and nothing troubling presents itself, then I remain in the clean-bill-of-health club.

Edwards no longer has a clean bill of health. But she is determined to use her newest diagnosis -- stage four metastatic cancer of the bones, considered treatable but not curable -- to work toward the best health she can acquire for as long as she can hold onto it. And that is about as good as any of us can do.

I didn't know what was coming when I plopped myself down in the waiting room of an Ear, Nose, and Throat clinic yesterday -- which is a good thing. Had I known what doctors would do to me, I may have run the other way. I may have learned to live with the pain I was experiencing each time I swallowed food. But I waited patiently, aware that doctors would "scope" my esophagus, mildly certain the procedure could be uncomfortable, completely unprepared for the full "scope" experience.

I swallowed a pill on Friday night -- not even a whole pill, just a half of one pill -- and it hurt when it went down my throat. I've had the feeling before, a sensation like the pill got stuck, but the discomfort has always gone away within a few hours. This time, it lasted. It hurt to swallow saliva. It hurt to swallow food. It just hurt. So after three days, I took myself to the clinic -- with the subtle worry that cancer was settling in my esophagus.

I know rationally that every ache and pain I experience is not cancer. But I've had cancer. And so I constantly battle a nagging fear lodged deep in my head that reminds me cancer is always a possibility, that cancer is often a shocking outcome of a routine little test for a simple little health concern.

I do not have cancer. I do not have cancer of the throat, voice box, esophagus, or stomach. That's the good news. The scope revealed -- via a tiny camera that traveled through my body -- nothing but healthy tissue. That makes me happy. The test did not make me happy.

I now know the scope is a long, thin tube that enters the body through one nostril. Ouch. It travels into the throat. Ouch. The patient swallows when it reaches the throat to assist in maneuvering it down further. Ouch. The scope then makes its way past the voice box, though the esophagus, and into the stomach. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. The travels are all displayed on a monitor, and I actually got a glimpse of these body parts -- during the split second when I was able to control my gagging, loosen my grip on the arms of the exam chair, and open my clinched eyes. So I saw for myself that everything looks healthy -- just before the tube was pulled right back through all these parts, leaving me with a very sore throat.

Now that I am home and have talked with a few people, I hear that some patients are unconscious for this procedure. They are completely unaware of the horrors of the scope. I got a few sprays to numb my nose and throat and drank a thick cocktail of lidocaine -- but I did not get the luxury of unconsciousness. And in the end that is okay. I got to see what was happening. I got to hear the doctor's revelation that nothing major is wrong. I got to witness the wonder of medical technology. I got to prove to myself that I can handle a little discomfort in exchange for a clean bill of health. And I got to learn that I have a bit of acid reflux. And now I have to squash that nagging fear that reminds me of the literature out there suggesting a link between acid reflux and cancer.

George W. Bush declared five years ago that no federal funding would be allocated for embryonic stem cell research. He has not changed his mind -- and two weeks ago vetoed a bill that would allow this research. He says that supporting the bill would be supporting the taking of innocent human life in order to find medical benefits for others. For Bush, it crosses a moral boundary. But most Americans support stem cell research and would like to see the Bush White House loosen its restrictions, says Kathy Hudson, director of the Genetics and Public Policy Center at Johns Hopkins University in Washington. Until this happens, though, scientists and researchers find themselves in an ethically-charged minefield, operating carefully and responsibly and ethically.

Dr. Peter Dirks -- a neurosurgeon specializing in childhood brain cancer at Toronto's Hospital for Sick Children who has been making headlines around the world for isolating brain cancer stem cells two years ago -- is one person weighing in on controversial issue of stem cell research. Dirks does not use embryonic stem cells but instead uses cells from tumors removed during brain surgery that would otherwise be discarded. But he says embryonic stem cell research is critical for his success. It's what has led to the findings that exist today -- and it holds the clues for further discovery. It's a delicate matter, though, regardless of the politics surrounding the issue. Before he harvests stem cells from any patient's brain tumor, for example, Dirks asks parents to sign a three and a half-page consent form. And that's just the beginning.

Federally-funded embryonic stem cell research does not yet have its beginning here in the United States. Maybe the tides will change. Maybe we will see progress. Maybe we won't. Only time will tell.

Roy Thayers has experienced death up close, as he was caregiver for his first wife as she battled cancer -- he knows what it is like to watch someone fight for their life -- and he was there when she lost her life to cancer.

Thayers, who at the age of 77 lives alone, was recently told by his doctors that he was at risk for a fatal heart attack and might lose his life if he didn't undergo heart surgery to unblock the heart valves immediately.

The problem of avoiding death and living longer became a matter of time and money. When the NHS put Thayers on a nine-month waiting list for heart surgery, he worried he might not have that long to wait -- considering the urgency with which the doctors had impressed upon him concerning the imminent threat of a fatal heart attack without surgery. He was told he could have the surgery immediately if he paid for it himself.

President George Bush vetoed a bill that would have allowed surplus embryos from fertility clinics to be used in research. This decision will cause slowing of cures for several major diseases including cancer.

If politicians say they support stem cell research then it doesn't necessarily mean that they support embryonic stem cell research which is the one that holds the greatest promise for the most diseases.

It was five years ago that President Bush 'allowed' research on the 60 existing stem cell lines. It didn't sway his decision however that we now know that these lines are not going to help us with human diseases.

I would say more of what I think about President Bush's decision but then people might start going out and burning my music CD's.

Oh .. wait .. I don't have any music CD's!

"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.

The outlandish comedian Tom Green will sit at home in his livingroom and host an internet-only talk show. During his stay at MTV, he taped The Tom Green Cancer Special, an intimate sharing of his diagnosis, surgery and recovery from testicular cancer in the usual Tom Green style of humor. It appears, in his new weekly phone-in internet-only talk show, his cohost will be his pet parrot Rex Murphy. Debuting June 15, Green will tape 50 episodes from his Hollywood Hills home.

"It seemed like the ultimate playground for someone like me," Green told the Associated Press Monday. "I've always enjoyed doing goofy experimental stuff that sometimes was too weird to put on a TV show but was fun artistically." The anything goes Tom Green show will air on ManiaTV.com. According to ManiaTV's VP of programming, Richard Ayoub, ManiaTV has no standards and practices.

Green is a six-year cancer survivor who proves that there is an uproarious life to be lived after a cancer diagnosis. Green certainly doesn't appear to have lost his sense of humor. In addition to his upcoming internet-only talk show, Green keeps a website and a blog.