I tend to think of cancer as a gift. I think it helps me prioritize life's details. I believe it has taught me to stress less. I know it's made me more sensitive to others sharing this planet with me. Yes, cancer has made me a better person. And I consider that a gift.

This is not how writer Lauren Terrazzano describes her dance with cancer.

"The truth is, having cancer just pisses me off," says Terrazzano.

"I wish I could be one of those people who has had the epiphany, who believes the disease has given me valuable insight into life. OK, I occasionally feel that way, but it might just be the pain medication."

Neither of us is right. We just have different takes on living with a deadly disease. And our opposite viewpoints make for a rather enlightening study on how cancer affects us all so differently.

I regularly write about the blessings I've found in the midst of cancer. So for today's Thought for the Day, I present to you some thoughts from Terrazzano about how cancer is not always a gift.

Think about this:

On cancer making her a better person

I don't really remember what kind of person I was before cancer. While I may not be better, I am definitely blunter.

I often say whatever I want to whomever I want, whenever the moment strikes me. These flashes can be toxic to those around me. I once yelled at a homeless man who asked me for a dollar. I yell at my husband sometimes, arguing about stupid things like how to shove a brisket into the freezer, above the peas and spinach.

And I sometimes wish bad things on bad people. Mostly the high-octane evil people, like Osama bin Laden (Why can't he have to go through chemotherapy? Why can't he have a good dose of radiation?). Are these really the musings of a better person?

On living each day as if it's your last

Nope. Can't do it.

While sometimes I am the carpe diem sort of girl, I want to live each day like just another day. I want to watch When Harry Met Sally for the 17th time or surf the Internet for new pictures of Britney Spears' bald head. Then I want to cap it off by several hours of reading. Forget Tolstoy, though. I'd rather read People magazine. Why do I have to cram life into 20 seconds, while other people have the luxury of doing it over the span of 20 years?

On why she is not so brave

Firefighters and police officers who plunge head first into dangerous situations are brave. A child protective worker who gets paid next to nothing and tries to be a mother to as many as 50 dysfunctional families is brave. Those people chose their positions in life. Cancer chose me. It's not bravery that gets me up every morning to try to beat back the monster. It's a survival instinct that kicks in, pure Darwinism.

The fact is, most of the time I am scared to death. I wear Band-Aids far too long because I can't take the agony of pulling them off. I hate needles (though I don't know anyone who likes them). Why is it that people who hate getting blood drawn are the ones who usually end up with serious illnesses that require getting stuck often? It's a mystery of the universe, much like why tornadoes seem to seek out trailer parks to do their damage.

Adriene Hughes was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after her 44th year of living. She found her lump after participating in a 5K walk, which for some reason, caused her breast to swell. The swelling led her to the lump -- and that's how she discovered her cancer. Adriene lives in Southern California, works as a media specialist, and spends her time taking photographs, knitting, and baking cookies and breads.

I have never met Adriene, have never spoken with Adriene. But we have communicated through our on-line journals and through e-mail ever since November 2004 -- when we each received a breast cancer diagnosis that changed the course of our lives forever.

Adriene is a gem, a treasure, a true inspiration. And here are her words.

Tomorrow is Independence Day. And I have been thinking all day today about all the freedom I have in my life at this exact moment in time. I have had the fortunate luxury to live for my entire life in the land of the free and the home of the brave -- to enjoy the pleasure of a country that is defended by courageous and selfless service men and woman and where I have opportunities that area boundless. I have had for the past five a half years the glorious freedom to stay at home with my children -- and the freedom, thanks to my husband who works to support us all, to avoid an all-encompassing and potentially stressful career. And recently, I have been enjoying two new freedoms -- one thanks to my three-year-old son who decided that he could in fact use the potty which has afforded me the thrilling freedom from changing diapers, smelling diapers, buying diapers, storing diapers, carrying diapers. He is my youngest child and his major feat has truly set me free from a way of life that has lingered on and on. But even more liberating than this -- which still is huge in my book -- is my new freedom from an almost-two-year journey through cancer treatment. My last infusion of cancer-fighting drugs sailed through my veins last week and I am now free to live my days without constant medical intervention. It's a freedom not all cancer patients get. A freedom I have never known. A freedom I will not take for granted, will not ever forget, will not ever stop enjoying. And while I will give special consideration to my freedom on each Independence Day that follows this one, I will really feel grateful each and every day for the independence that fills my world. It's a gift I would never return, never trade, never discard. It's a gift of a lifetime.

Remember Dolly the first successfully cloned sheep? In 1997, a scientist named Ian Wilmut stunned the world when he announced he had successfully cloned a sheep from an adult cell. With a new book, After Dolly, set for release on June 12, Wilmut is suggesting that we should seriously consider cloning babies to put an end to genetic disease. But Wilmut says he is not suggesting the practice of genetic enhancement to create designer babies. It certainly sounds like that is what he is saying when he suggests that parents, with the assistance of scientists, be allowed to combine the cloning of human embryos with genetic modification to eliminate hereditary disease. The process of creating designer babies is the same, the intent of purpose separated by a thin veil. Regardless of what he says he is or is not saying -- what he is describing is the eventuality of designer humans.

Wilmut states, "The use of genetic and reproductive technologies is not a step backward into darkness, but a step forward into the light." But in following Wilmut into his light, will our eventual fate be that of Icarus, who soared toward the sun on wax wings? I don't want to go all Luddite, but I am very uneasy about the ethics and where this all leads. And to take it to the next level, will there one day in the future be two races of humans? The genetically perfect designer human, and the genetically-imperfect unmodified human. How will it work? Who will decide? What do you think? 

Photographs of beautiful, brave, bald women fill the pages of Jackson Hunsicker's new book, Turning Heads: Portraits of Grace, Inspiration, and Possibilities.  Hunsicker, a cancer survivor whose initial fear after diagnosis was that of losing her own hair, features portraits of women from all over -- bald women whose cancer and chemotherapy took their hair.  Well-known photographers capture their beauty in this photo book that features cancer survivors in their own natural settings -- like two women posing in Venice Beach, one having never before gone out bald in public, a surfer riding a wave in Hawaii, and a bald and proud Melissa Etheridge on stage at the 2005 Grammy's.  Each photograph is accompanied by a short essay as the women in this book showcase their talents, interests, bravery, and courage. Hats off to Hunsicker for a book sure to be inspiring.