The Lori Arquilla Anderson Foundation for Brain Cancer is promoting awareness of the life threatening effects of brain tumors, advocating on the behalf of cancer patients and raising funds for medical research. LAAF is dedicated to making a difference towards finding a cure.

You can read more about Lori's diagnoses, treatments and cancer journey here. Sadly Lori passed away on July 4, 2005. She was diagnosed with Glioblastoma Multiforme, one of the most deadly brain cancers.

This organization keeps Lori's memory alive and reminds us also to -- live, love and laaf.

Tykerb (lapatinib) may be effective at shrinking breast cancer tumors in the brain, researchers say. This drug is called a targeted therapy because it can kill cancer cells and leave normal cells alone. Tykerb targets HER2 and EGFR, two proteins that function abnormally in breast cancer cells.

A study was conducted that included 241 breast cancer patients with brain metastasis that continued to progress after radiation treatment and Herceptin therapy.

The study concluded that nearly half of the patients, 46 percent, experienced at least a twenty percent reduction in the size the the brain tumors.

The researchers concluded "Tykerb has promise in the treatment of brain metastasis".

Tomorrow I report for one of my six-month radiation follow-ups. My radiation oncologist will review how I've fared for the past two years since my left breast was zapped, day after day, week after week, in an aggressive attempt to keep cancer from returning to the same local area where it first reared its ugly head. How horrified I would be if I learned the machines used to treat my cancer were faulty, that they did not in fact do anything aggressive, that they were essentially ineffective.

Hundreds of brain cancer patients may be hearing this horrific news, now that malfunctioning machines have been ordered shut down following a manufacturer's warning.

Brainlab of Munich, Germany claims a small targeting error occurred with their machines but that it is unlikely to cause problems for patients. If I were one of these patients, I would still be worried. Targeting the tumor bed area is crucial in any cancer treatment. I don't like the sound of "targeting error," regardless of how minor it may be.

Cancer made me tired. It's a common side effect of the disease and its accompanying treatments, and it's been known to linger long after therapy stops. In order to combat my own drowsiness, I get plenty of sleep at night, I exercise just about every day -- physical activity, even when you feel too pooped to lift a finger, can increase energy levels -- and I try to eat only the healthiest foods, nothing that might make me feel sluggish. I'll take a stab at anything that might give me a boost. Maybe even lemonade, if I can find one low in sugar.

Research indicates that the taste of lemons can fight fatigue by stimulating a nerve in the nose, which then sets off "wake-up" sensors in the brain. So next time you need some extra pep in the morning or a lift during the afternoon, think about about sipping on some lemonade. And then let us know if it works.

Source: Family Circle, July 2007

I'm an organizer, a plan-maker, a woman of many lists. It's all part of my Type A personality -- the one that contributes to a bit of stress but also helps me stay on top of things. I like staying on top of things.

Lists have become more important to me than ever, thanks to cancer and chemo and my forgetful brain. If I want to remember something, I must write it down. If I let just a moment pass without recording the thought I want to keep, it's gone. So I have ongoing grocery lists, household to-do lists, task lists, even lists of questions I want to ask my doctor. Since I see my doctors just once every few months, I keep a running list. Sometimes the list is quite long when I arrive for my appointment. Sometimes I don't have time to cover each topic. Sometimes I transfer questions onto future lists.

It would be nice if I could get all my medical questions answered at each visit. I once read that the typical amount of time a doctor spends with a patient is eight minutes -- so it makes sense I never cross off all my list items. But in the future, I may do better at covering my bases, thanks to this advice I found in the in the July 2007 issue of Good Housekeeping.

I wrote the title of this post -- Prescription for finesse -- on May 30. Then I saved it, knowing I'd come back and churn out a post on the topic. So here I am, ready to write. But I can't remember for the life of me what I'd intended to write about. I know it wasn't about anything news-related -- I would have saved a link to a news story had this been the case -- so it must have been something personal I'd planned to share with you.

My memory has been failing me lately. Once, I completely forgot my sister's phone number -- I call her every day so to go completely blank on how to reach her is a little odd. Another time, I left my cell phone in a drawer in my bathroom -- a drawer that holds my brush and hair clips and headbands -- and I had to call the phone from another phone to locate its whereabouts. I use the whole chemo excuse every time something like this happens. Chemo brain. A convenient explanation for my flighty tendencies.

My doctor says chemo may not be to blame. Perhaps I would have done these things prior to cancer and now I just interpret all my behavior through the chemo filter. Maybe. But I don't remember being so forgetful before toxic drugs traveled my veins. And I don't remember losing the ability to recall lost information. It's frustrating. I want my mental sharpness back. I want to know what I had in mind for this title.

For now, I must accept that what is gone is gone. For the future, I will put in writing everything I wish to remember. As for that story idea: if it ever surfaces in my brain's lost and found bin, I will happily return to write about it.

Glioblastoma Multiforme (GBM), also known as a grade IV astrocytoma, is the most common and most aggressive type of primary brain tumor. Although GBM can occur at any age, the disease is most commonly diagnosed after the age of 50.

I wanted to discuss this type of cancer and add it to the Cancer by the Numbers feature because it has directly affected my family. My 39-year-old uncle died of the disease in 1987. He only survived a year after diagnosis. It is disheartening that this disease has not seen any strides in improved survival rates over all these years.

The Numbers

GBM accounts for 52 percent of all primary brain tumor cases. Brain tumors account for one in every 100 cancers diagnosed annually in the United States. Most malignant brain tumors and brain cancers have spread from other tumors in the body to the skull, including cancers of the breast and lung, malignant melanoma and blood cell cancers.

Former Green Bay, New England, and Cleveland football player Joe Andruzzi has just completed the first of a 12-step series of chemotherapy treatments for Burkitt's lymphoma, a form of non-Hodgkins lymphoma.

Andruzzi, married and dad to four children, was released by the Browns on May 2 so he and his family could move to New Jersey. Then last week, Andruzzi began experiencing abdominal pain and other symptoms. He consulted with the Browns' medical staff, underwent a colonoscopy, learned an abnormality was found, and then headed to Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston where he was diagnosed with Burkitt's.

The cure rate for Burkitt's -- a rapidly growing, rare form of cancer that strikes only 100 people in the United States each year -- is about 80 percent if patients receive intensive therapy, according to the National Cancer Institute. The other patient survival factor is the stage of the disease. Andruzzi's stage has not been publicly reported.

Oakland Athletics center fielder Nick Swisher appeared at Saturday evening's pregame event wearing three ponytails. Prepared to donate his locks to the Pantene Beautiful Lengths non-profit campaign, Swisher said just before his ponytails were snipped, "I feel like Pippi Longstocking. I look so goofy right now. But if I can make a difference in one or two women's lives, it's worth it."

Swisher's father -- major league baseball player Steve Swisher -- did the cutting honors. And it was fitting the two men were in on this endeavor together because Swisher's grandmother -- his dad's mother -- died from brain cancer two years ago.

"The initial idea was out of respect for my mom -- but the second thing is: It's time for a haircut,'' Steve Swisher said. "I'm so proud of Nick. He's bringing attention to a good cause and that's what it's all about.''

Pantene creates free wigs for women dealing with hair loss from cancer treatment.

New hope may be an injection away for patients living with glioma, a terminal brain cancer that comes with a life expectancy of about 25 weeks post-diagnosis.

A new vaccine called Vitaspen is made by using tissue extracted from each person's cancerous tumor. The tissue is used as a unique footprint for the vaccine that targets destructive tumor tissue while sparing healthy tissue in the same region.

Vitaspen is only in the first stage of clinical human trials, but researchers are pleased with the promise of the new drug -- particularly the benefits trial participants are gaining form the treatment. They have reported no adverse side effects, and the drug has increased the overall survival rate.

Results of stage one trials will determine if the drug warrants stage two testing.

The Boston Marathon takes place today. And one runner -- known to friends and family as Running Bear -- will run to raise money for brain tumor research. She's already collected more than $3,500.

Harvard student Sarah MacCarthy, 25, will run for her Uncle Tim, who is battling glioblastoma (GBM), the most aggressive form of the primary brain tumors known collectively as gliomas.

If Uncle Tim can fight for his life, MacCarthy can use her privilege of good health to make a difference -- even if it means stepping up her casual running to marathon standards.

The Brain Tumor Society will benefit from MacCarthy's determination. Dedicated to improving quality of life for patients, survivors, and families affected by this disease, BTS is committed to being a national leader in the quest for a cure.

It seems MacCarthy is pretty committed herself. To contribute to her efforts and check on her progress, click here.

My friend -- who has a friend newly diagnosed with brain cancer -- greeted me at the door the other day and asked with a sense of urgency, "How can I help?"

"Help your friend?" I asked.

"Yes, she said, unsure of what she might say or do in this time of great difficulty for everyone involved.

I told her a few things. And then I thought of some more. It wasn't terribly easy to come up with these ideas. Because even though I myself was on the receiving end of help during my cancer journey, it's still hard to imagine what an individual wants or needs -- or doesn't want or need. But here's what I've got to offer.

I hope this helps my friend.

I hope it helps you too.

• Allow your loved one to take the lead. If you sense this person wants to talk, then talk. If you sense talk is not welcomed, then don't talk. To determine whether or not your friend or family member wants to discuss cancer, approach the topic and judge the response you get. I know I can usually tell if someone is willing to open up -- typically the conversation just flows -- and when someone is putting the brakes on chit-chat -- typically the conversation falls flat.

• If talk is not in the cards, then consider an offer of food. Sometimes actions speak much louder than words. So think about calling a restaurant in your friend's town and ordering a meal to be delivered right to the door. Most eating establishments accept credit card numbers over the phone so location should be a non-issue. Even those deep in despair need to eat, and taking away the chore of cooking and cleaning up can be quite a gift.

• If the gift of food is not up your alley, how about sending a small gift, like a candle, a pair of cozy socks, a grocery store gift card, a music CD, a gift certificate for a spa. You name it, your special something might brighten the day.

• If you live near your loved one and have some free time, offer to drive to appointments, visit during treatments, pick up kids and entertain them for the day, clean house, cook, and clean up dinner. Try to be very specific with your offers. Say, "I'd like to pick up your kids tomorrow at lunch so you can take a nap" or "I'm coming over on Sunday to rake leaves." These offers are easier to accept than the "call me if you need anything" kind.
  

• If a quick stop at your loved one's house is possible, drop off a book on the front porch or set some pretty potted flowers by the door. Or do both. Then walk away without saying a word. Let your help take your friend by surprise.

• When you do have the chance to talk, avoid guiding the conversation with your own thoughts and advice, unless requested. Saying, "Everything will be OK," for example, may not be true. Assuring your friend she will sail right through chemotherapy may backfire if nausea and fatigue are just down the road. Stating, "it's OK, your hair will grow back," doesn't really help those living with the horror of hair loss. So stay away from promises and predictions and stick to the present. Ask questions, listen, and paraphrase back what your friend has shared. These are basic counseling techniques. The premise is that allowing the person to work through the issues is more important than what we can do to directly help.
  

• Don't forget about the good old greeting card or short note that lets your loved know how much you care. Let the card say it if you wish to avoid writing and then add an address, a stamp, and send your support on its way.
  

• This makes eight -- so much for sticking to my Sunday plan -- but I must share this too: Don't forget about your loved one after months and even years pass by. Initial diagnoses are tough and treatments are tough too. But as your friend survives each day, remember to check in. Cancer is a life-long battle for many. Support and assistance may be just as valuable a year down the road as it is on day one.

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?

A friend of a friend was diagnosed this week with a cancerous brain tumor -- a glioma to be exact -- and the surgery to remove the mass is scheduled for Monday.

I don't know much about this woman or her cancer, but I do know doctors told her yesterday she will likely survive for only a few years. I can't help but think that if doctors had given me this same prediction at the time of my cancer diagnosis, my time would just about be up.

I can't fully grasp the magnitude of this sad and sobering news. But I can comprehend that any one of us could be on the receiving end of such an announcement at any given moment. We are all vulnerable. And so I am confronted once again with the powerful and painful reminder that each day really could be my last.

My gut hasn't always guided me through life's most difficult decisions and dilemmas. It wasn't until I felt a lump in my breast more than two years ago that my gut kicked into gear and told me something very important.

"It's cancer," my insides told me one week before the surgeon who did my biopsy called.

"It's cancer," the surgeon said. I didn't tell him, but I thought it: "I know."

I also knew prior to surgery that my cancer had not spread to my lymph nodes. My gut told me this too. It also told me the chemotherapy drug Taxol was not right for me -- since my cancer had not spread -- despite the urging of one oncologist that I accept this treatment. I would have gone on gut instinct alone in my rejection of this medication but another doctor weighed in and agreed with my gut, so I had solid backing on this decision.

Many have dismissed hunches like these and have written off those who believe in them as screwballs, says writer Chip Brown in the March 2007 issue of The Oprah Magazine. But as Brown shares after peering into the world of gut instinct, there are 100 million nerve cells in the gut. They run on autopilot, regulate digestion, play a critical role in the body's immune system, and control mood-altering neurotransmitters identical to those in the brain.

The gut is essentially a second brain. It was a "gut feeling" that led Fred Smith, founder of Federal Express, to begin exploring the possibilities of overnight delivery and Howard Schultz, founder of Starbucks, to begin mass marketing coffee. Wall Street professionals make millions on their gut feelings, sportscasters make startling predictions based on gut guidance, and entrepreneurs launch thriving businesses because of the inklings that rumble in their tummies.

You may or may not be a gut thinker yourself. But I've stumbled upon a gut exercise -- thanks to psychotherapist Nancy Napier --and I'd like for you to consider it the next time you find yourself stuck at a crossroads, unsure of where to turn. You never know, the direction you seek may be swirling around in your midsection, just waiting for a call to action.

Think about this:

You are wavering between two choices. Find yourself a quiet, serene place where there will be no disruptions. Now sit down. Take a moment to settle and focus on the issue you want to explore. Then choose one side. Think about this side and notice what happens in your gut. Do you feel a tightening and gripping or a softening and warming? Are the sensations pleasant or uncomfortable? Notice your thoughts. Are they positive or negative? Give yourself some time to feel your gut and your mind responding.

Now shift to the other side. Think about the previous questions, and try to chart what your body gut is saying.

While you may not get a gut answer at first, if you come back with the question several times, you'll likely hear just what your gut wants you to know.