Jack Nicholson has been serving up a steady stream of cheer for cancer patients at the Cedars-Sinai Los Angeles hospital.

The Hollywood icon and Oscar winner has been visiting terminal patients and cheering them up with jokes, card games, and behind-the-scenes stories about his career.

Nicholson's next career move comes in the form of a movie called The Bucket List. He plays a dying man in the film and began spending time at the hospital to research his role. But once his film finished, Nicholson kept visiting. He was that touched and moved by the patients.

Hospital staff say the actor's visits do wonders for the patient spirits. The only down side is for Nicholson who finds it hard to leave, knowing he may have seen some of his new friends for the last time.

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.

Sometimes all it takes is a small gesture to warm the heart of a cancer patient. It doesn't take anything huge. It shouldn't cause any stress or discomfort. And it shouldn't require a whole lot of thought. It should be simple. Simply simple.

A whole lot of small gestures spread a whole lot of cheer my way when I was knee-deep in cancer treatment and needed a lift. Cozy socks kept my feet and my spirits toasty. A package of brownies sweetened my sour days. Flowers brightened my dining room and my state of mind. Books left on my doorstep delivered knowledge and wisdom and a bit of humor to my world.

The options for spreading sunshine are endless. The list of possibilities could go on and on. Here is just a start -- a small list of small gestures that can make a dreary day downright delightful.

Give a hug
Send a handwritten letter
Make a homemade card
Write a poem
Give a journal
Deliver a candle
Make a home-cooked meal
Arrange for food delivery
Babysit children
Play with children
Drive to appointments
Go wig or hat shopping
Visit during chemotherapy sessions
Give something comfy -- socks, pajamas, hat
Do grocery shopping
Accompany to lunch, dinner, movie
Take a walk
Attend church
Have a picnic
Go fishing
Make a donation to favorite charity
Walk, run, volunteer, raise funds in honor of your special someone

Be specific in your gesturing. Trade a comment like "let me know if I can do anything" for "I'm going to come over and wash and clean your car on Saturday." Vague offers are rarely successful -- cancer patients are not likely to recall every general offer they receive and then manage them all into a schedule. It's just too much to consider in the midst of turmoil. But an offer that comes to life right before them is easy. It's effortless. It is truly a gift. A simple, priceless gift.

A few days ago, notification of an e-mail arrived in my inbox. It popped up right in front of me, with the sender's name -- Amy Wilson -- glaring in black print right before my eyes. Amy is my friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer just after my own diagnosis. We e-mailed frequently about our cancer hopes and fears and so it was never before odd that a message would travel from her computer in Ohio to mine in Florida. But on the day this one e-mail arrived, it was odd -- because Amy died two weeks ago, after a 15-month battle with the disease we both vowed to conquer.

The e-mail was not from Amy. It was from her husband, Paul. And it was as comforting to hear from him as it was odd to see Amy's name flash in front of me. You see, I have wanted to call Paul, e-mail Paul, send a card to Paul -- something. I have wanted to reach out in some way, even though I have never met the man who thought he would spend the rest of his life raising his two children with Amy. But I never could figure out what I would write or say or send. I have been afraid that it would be hard for him to talk about Amy's death. I've been afraid that it would be hard for me to talk about her death. So I have waited, hoping the passage of time would help prepare me for some sort of action. And in the end, time was not necessary. Because Paul reached out to me. And this is what he wrote in the e-mail he sent from Amy's mailbox.


And now I can contact Paul, because he has opened the door. He -- the one suffering the greatest loss -- has comforted me. And now I need to thank him.

Each year, Hallmark offers a specially-designed, one-of-a-kind greeting card in honor of breast cancer awareness month to remind women of the importance of early detection. Consumers can join the cause -- Cards for the Cure -- by picking up these cards at Hallmark Gold Crown retail shops and by sending them to women in their lives. Cards are available while supplies last through October 31. And they are free.

Hallmark has supported the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation for eight years now -- and in addition to the Cards for the Cure initiative, Hallmark offers several items for sale and will donate 10 percent of profits to the Komen Foundation. The breast cancer awareness gift collection includes an exclusive CD by Grammy award winner and breast cancer survivor Olivia Newton-John, a keepsake angel ornament, note cards, a pink suede journal, and pink champagne glasses.

Breast cancer awareness is a personal initiative for those at Hallmark. It has touched family and friends and employees and customers. And so they are commitment to the cause. And they have already made a difference with the $2.3 million they have donated over the years to the Komen Foundation.

For me, it's the small things that matter most as I heal from breast cancer. Like a hand on my shoulder, a note in the mail, a phone call to see how I'm doing -- and a happy boobie card my friend and fitness trainer gave me the other day. I went to her house for a training session, and she greeted me at the door with a purple piece of paper cut into the shape of breasts. Butterfly stickers marked the nipple areas and the words Good Luck, Jacki were written happily in red marker. Just the day before I received this cheery gift, we had spoken about my upcoming mammogram and ultrasound for a suspicious lump I had discovered in my breast. We have spoken about my whole cancer journey over the course of my whole training journey -- so she knows all about the ups and downs. And when she sensed my dip in spirits, she reached out, with love and concern -- and with happy boobies.

My mammogram and ultrasound turned out just fine. Nothing is wrong. What I felt is just normal tissue. My cancer is not back. So my spirits are back up -- and my happy boobies are hanging on my refrigerator as a reminder of the support that still surrounds me every day.

It's hard to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me during my bad days with cancer. I could call them consuming and crushing and sickening and frightening and crippling and still not completely cover all the bases. It's much easier to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me on my good days with cancer. I felt -- and still mostly feel this way -- happy and spunky and motivated and invigorated and fulfilled. And I felt loved -- because most of my bad days were turned around by the love of others. It was like clockwork. When I needed it most, a surprise awaited me in my mailbox or my inbox or on on the other side of my front door or on my front porch. These surprises strengthened me on my bad days -- and sometimes beyond the bad days. They still help me really -- because my memory of how they saved me from days of despair continues to fuel my good days. And here are seven of my special surprises.

Alyssa Bruno, who is five years old, has been diagnosed with diffuse pontine glioma, a brain stem cancer. With a birthday card and a penny for good luck, you can help little Alyssa of Henrietta celebrate her birthday. On August 2, when Alyssa turns six years old, the Federation of Social Workers will deliver all the birthday cards and lucky pennies to Alyssa.

The request began as an email send out by one of Alyssa's teachers. She sent out the email requesting birthday cards and lucky pennies for Alyssa, with an additional request that the person receiving the email forward it on to others. As of now, the federation has received 35 birthday cards for Alyssa. If you would like to brighten the day of a little girl who is facing cancer on her very special day, send her a birthday card to:

Alyssa Bruno Birthday Cards
Federation of Social Workers
167 Flanders Street (D-12)
Rochester, New York 14619

Don't forget the lucky penny!

I will share anything and everything about my own experience with breast cancer -- how I found it, how it was removed, how it was treated, how I fared through the whole ordeal, how I'm surviving now. I figure that if I spread the word about what happened to me, that others will become more aware and some -- especially those with a new diagnosis -- will benefit from whatever wisdom I have to impart. So I am an open book. I talk about breast cancer, answer questions about breast cancer, and probably insert my opinion about the topic to some who don't really care. But I will continue talking and sharing -- and writing -- because the alternative would be a disservice to the few I may be able to help.

So a card stuck in the middle of a magazine caught my eye the other day. The slogan on it reads, Tell Someone and the illustrations on this card -- that functions as a postcard -- show women reaching out to other women. There are women talking on the phone and a woman tapping another on the shoulder. The message they appear to be spreading is highlighted in the text below the graphic representation of this campaign to raise awareness of cervical cancer. The message is about HPV -- human papillomavirus -- and about how millions of women already have it and how some don't even know they have it. I learned from reading this card that for some, HPV will clear on its own. But for some, cervical cancer may develop. This is why Pap tests are critical. And so what all women should be telling other women is this -- ask your doctor about the importance of Pap tests. And be active in your own health. And follow all recommendations for detecting health concerns early. I learned from reading this card that I should tell someone about this. And so now I have.

I visited a neighbor yesterday who has breast cancer. She has had one dose of chemotherapy and just yesterday shaved her head. I stopped by to see her new hairstyle and to give her a gift -- a collection of goodies including a hat, some Healing Garden bath lotions and sprays, a flower pen I made, and a card reminding her that like me, she will survive the madness of breast cancer treatment and will go on to enjoy a full head of hair again. And while our travels will be similar in some ways, they are also very different.  You see, Gayle had a mastectomy and I did not. So I can't relate to the emotion that comes from losing a breast and feeling lopsided and searching for a bathing suit to mask the unevenness and waiting for reconstruction that won't take place until after chemotherapy is complete. But Gayle is one strong woman and while I know she will have dark moments at times, her attitude and spirit is remarkable. I went to visit her thinking I could spread some hope her way and I walked away with a dose of hope from her -- a woman new to this journey yet full of courage and strength and bravery.

Gayle, 33 years old, a wife, and mom of two small boys, told me she will go to work tomorrow with a bald head -- she is not interested in cover-ups -- and this makes her an exceptional person in my book. I never did bare my baldness to the world and kept it covered until my new hair was growing back. I admire Gayle -- and all the women who display their heads like badges of honor -- because she is a true survivor. And one who just might teach me a thing or two.