In the not-too-distant future, dermatologists will be able to diagnose skin cancer without ever cutting the skin.

Right now, doctors cut out all suspicious lesions in order to examine them, to determine if they are cancerous or not. But with the development of a new microscope, cells can be examined right on the body -- without cutting.

Moles matter, reported Matt Lauer on Thursday's TODAY show during an interview with a skin cancer expert. Moles are highly associated with melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer. So it is critical that each mole is investigated. With this new high resolution technology -- essentially a video biopsy -- a camera will allow doctors to view cells, zero in on the area of concern, and pinpoint the exact cells that make up a mole. If the cells are similar in shape and size and have equal distribution, the mole is normal. If the individual cells are irregular and have no uniform pattern, the mole is abnormal and probably cancerous.

While cutting for biopsy purposes will one day be a thing of the past, cutting will still be necessary if a mole is characterized by cancerous cells. If it's cancer, it must come out. But the video biopsy can be used to map the border and boundaries and will allow for precise removal of the mole.

This technology is still developing -- but one day, perhaps eight to 10 years from now -- doctors will be able to more consistently detect cancer without removal of skin. For now, they must take a piece of the mole and put it under a microscope.

There are definite warning signs of skin cancer. Any mole that is asymmetrical with irregular borders and varied, dark colors should be reported to a physician. Also, any mole that changes in color, shape, or size and is bigger than a pencil eraser is cause for concern.

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.

Glamour's October magazine features stories about breast cancer survivors. Cancer Vixen Marisa Acocella Marchetto, cartoonist for Glamour and The New Yorker and author of Cancer Vixen: A True Story, is profiled. And another survivor -- young mom Kelly Corrigan who authors her online journal Circus of Cancer -- is highlighted. And Allison Briggs, diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 26, shares her photo journal with readers who learn from all three survivors that more and more, women are sharing their cancer journeys in very public ways.

Allison -- Alli -- could not sleep the night she was diagnosed with breast cancer so she sent her boyfriend to the store for medication to calm her upset stomach. While he was gone, she noticed a camera sitting on the bedside table. She had an overwhelming urge to start snapping photos. So she took some self-portraits, had her boyfriend take some more when he returned home, and decided that night she would document her journey through photographs. She wanted to remember this phase of her life -- even though she had no idea how it would turn out.

Life is turning out just fine for Alli, who has rallied a support team called The Rack Pack, a group of women who aim to make a difference -- all because of the inspiration and strength they receive from their friend Alli. They are participating in the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer 3-Day, 60-mile walk in San Diego November 10-12. They sell Rack Pack t-shirts. They offer e-mail notification of exclusive Rack Pack events. They share updates about Alli. They never stop trying to make a difference -- for Alli and for women everywhere fighting breast cancer.

Fuji film's new release of the pink FinePix Z3 digital camera will contribute a percentage of profits to the National Breast Cancer Foundation (NBCF). Fuji will also contribute mammogram equipment to the NBCF.

Fuji film has agreed to donate sales of the new pink-themed cameras to the Dallas-based nonprofit, as well as donate $250,000 and two of its digital mammography systems. The company's Fuji Computed Radiography for Mammography recently received approval from the Food and Drug Administration for the sale in the US.

Fuji film will also offer a pink one time use camera that will display the NBCF logo and mission. It will also offer information on annual mammography screening.

Chemotherapy is a good remedy for killing cancer cells -- and I hope every day that it did its job and killed all cancer cells that may have floated away from my original breast cancer tumor. But one not-so-good side effect of this good remedy is the beating that healthy cells take in the process of this life-saving treatment. It will be a red-letter day when chemotherapy can target only cancer cells, while leaving healthy cells unaffected. And this day may be a bit closer for patients in Taiwan who find they are in the early stages of relapse with nasopharynx cancer.

On Wednesday, National Taiwan University Hospital introduced a new high-tech laser procedure -- potassium-titanyl-phosphate or KPT -- to vaporize cancer cells. Doctors use a small endoscopic camera and easily manipulate the laser to precisely eliminate the cancer cells in the back of the nose and the soft roof of the mouth -- without harming healthy cells. The procedure takes roughly 90 minutes and requires a two-day stay in the hospital. This procedure should only be used in the early stages of relapse, though, and first-time cancer patients should still seek chemotherapy. And while those in later stages of relapse can still receive the treatment, it will only relieve discomfort without solving the problem.

To date, there have been 16 successful KPT treatments for this disease that about 1,000 people in Taiwan contract each year.