The one constant thing that gives people fighting cancer hope is the continued support of friends and family. Phone calls, emails, a surprise or planned visit at the door that has a big hug on the other side, a held hand over coffee or tea, or sitting patiently by their side as they go in for treatments. When that support falls by the wayside, it makes the determination to fight this disease or any other less worth the effort. In my humble opinion as someone fighting cancer, we sometimes fight harder to overcome disease for others more than ourselves. Because it is in their caring and the will in their eyes that gives us a much brighter hope than we find in ourselves. It is the lack of support or caring that sets off an internal depression that makes it ten times harder to find the will to fight. People seem to find it easier to hug a tree than a human. Try to imagine if you will sitting in a house alone and thinking about a disease that can run rampant through your body. It is hard to imagine and something that we do not want to think about. Yet many many people face that struggle every day of their lives.

So if you haven't reached out to someone you know, a neighbor, a friend, someone in your church or where you work, or even a family member that is struggling with cancer or any other disease, then find it in your heart to do so. It will make a difference. And if you have reached out to someone once or even twice, know that once is not enough and twice is not enough. No matter how much you think you are being a nuisance, that constant reminder of love and support is 95 percent of your friend's battle. The old saying "You never know who your true friends are until you go through a crisis and see who stands by our side" is very very true. So go stand by someone's side today, tomorrow, and for many days to come to offer support and encourage strength until their fight is successful. Even a phone call goes a long long way.

For those of you who stay in touch with me by phone and emails and that come knocking on my door in this time of need, I thank you very much for giving me the strength and will to survive.

I've had the little book, with its glossy plaid cover, ever since it was released in 1991. I was 21 years old and already a fan of well-crafted, powerful words. So it was no surprise I picked up Life's Little Instruction Book: 511 suggestions, observations, and reminders on how to live a happy and rewarding life. And it's no surprise I have kept it with me for all these years, allowing it a lifetime membership on my bookshelf, where I can swiftly pluck it from its spot when I need a little inspiration.

Now in a worn, faded, and tattered state, this book is still one of my favorites. Its words are timeless, its messages are meaningful -- even more so now that I am 36 years ago. Now a college graduate, a one-time working professional, a wife, a mom, a writer, and a breast cancer survivor, the reflections printed in this book speak to me more clearly than ever before.

Here are seven of my current favorites from Life's Little Instruction Book -- written by H. Jackson Brown, Jr. for his college-bound son at a time when he had no idea the road map he provided for his child would come to serve so many others.

• Always have something beautiful in sight, even if it's just a daisy in a jelly glass.

• Don't forget, a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.

• Choose work that is in harmony with your values.

• Don't be intimidated by doctors and nurses. Even when you're in the hospital, it's still your body.

• Don't use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved.

• Live so that when your children think of fairness, caring, and integrity, they think of you.

• Keep it simple.
  

I had a free massage the other day, compliments of a local massage workshop called Caring for Clients with Cancer.

This hands-on gift came to me by way of a woman who was once a scientist and is now a massage therapist. Concerned that cancer patients are rarely encouraged to cash in on the benefits of touch therapy, this woman merged her two disciplines so she could help patients heal in a holistic manner. And so her workshop was born. And I was invited to take part.

I received one completely soothing and invigorating massage. I also received one completely inspiring packet of quotes -- that I've already read over and over again -- related to recovery and healing. Each quote is so perfect in its message, and I wish I could share them all today. But time and space are limited at the moment, and I can only share a few.

So here are seven of my favorite quotes, free for the taking, a gift from me to you. Take a moment to read them, share them, savor them, and quietly reflect on the power of these simple words.

People who have been through illness's dark passage can occasionally give us a glimpse, not only of what it is like to become whole, but of what it is to be more fully human.
--Marc Ian Barasch
The Healing Path

Those who have suffered understand suffering and therefore extend their hand.
--Patti Smith

What matters is this: you can look at a scar and see hurt or you can look at a scar and see healing. Try to understand.
--Sheri Reynolds

I have a duty to speak the truth as I see it and to share not just my triumphs, not just the things that felt good, but the pain, the intense, often unmitigating pain. It is important to share how I know survival is survival and not just a walk through the rain.
--Audre Lorde

Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.
--Susan Sontag, Illness as Metaphor

Remember that everyone you meet is afraid of something, loves something, and has lost something.
--H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Patience is a hard discipline. It is not just waiting until something happens over which we have no control; the arrival of the bus, the end of the rain, the return of a friend, the resolution of a conflict. Patience is not waiting passively until someone else does something. Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are. When we are impatient, we try to get away from where we are. We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later, and somewhere else. Let's be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.
--Henry J.M. Nouwen

Teenager Abraham Cherrix made national headlines recently with a legal battle that earned him the right to fight cancer on his own terms. Cherrix, 16, who chose to treat his disease with alternative treatments after traditional therapy failed to cure him of Hodgkin's disease, was told by the courts that his choice was not acceptable -- that he must undergo higher doses of chemotherapy in combination with radiation and followed by stem cell transplant. Cherrix ended up a winner in court and is currently receiving the therapy of his choice. But despite the legal win, Cherrix and his family are losing financially.

The Cherrix family owns a kayak company in Virginia, and spring and summer are peak seasons. Since the family had to close shop on many occasions due to court appearances, profits suffered. So on Sunday afternoon, local musicians headlined a fundraising concert -- billed as Voices for Choices -- to help with medical and court costs. Cherrix could not attend -- he's in the midst of treatment in Mississippi -- but the show went on. And while the money raised is not enough to cover all outstanding bills, it is enough to remind the family of all the caring people in the world.

Reports from family indicate Cherrix is doing well with treatment and that his tumor is shrinking. If he continues to make progress, he may be able to return home soon -- so he can thank those whose support is so much more than money can buy.

She says it's all that really matters to her -- the time she spends with family. It comes before work and commitments and responsibilities. It shapes her minutes, her hours, her days. It brings her joy and laughter and sometimes tears. It propels her, comforts her, inspires her. And it shows -- in everything she does. And she does a lot. But most important, especially in light of today -- Grandparent's Day -- is what she does for her grandchildren who are too small to truly express what's in their little hearts but will surely one day shout from rooftops with joy about this woman who wraps them in love every day. But for now, these three children -- ages five, three, and almost two -- mostly just shout happily about all sorts of things that don't always make a lot of sense. So today, I will speak for them. I will say thank you to their Nana -- my mom -- who watches her granddaughter every day, picks up her grandson from kindergarten two times per week, takes all three kids on swimming adventures, babysits on a moment's notice, and has twice this year sat with her daughters for hours in emergency rooms with sick babies. And in addition to the fact that she was completely by my side during my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, she was also somehow caring for my children -- her grandsons.

If my mom wasn't sitting with me during chemotherapy infusions, she was watching my boys so my husband could be with me. If she wasn't sitting with me in the hospital each time I was admitted with neutropenia, she was at home with my boys so my husband could sit with me. And when my husband had to rush me to the hospital with dangerous fevers, she arrived in the middle of the night, slept in my bed, and greeted my babies when they woke. She entertained my boys every day for seven weeks while I hauled myself to and from radiation appointments. During chemo, she took my kids when I was tired, foggy, incoherent and needed desperately to sleep. She did it all -- tirelessly, effortlessly, constantly.

And so on this Grandparent's Day, I realize that I owe this grandma for saving my life. By caring for the two most important people in my world, she allowed me to fight for my life -- and to come back to life. And there seems nothing really appropriate I can share with her for this gift she has given me. But I can say thank you. And one day, when they can eloquently express their own feelings, I know Jordan and Joey and Danny will all let their Nana know just how important she is. All day. Every day.

Husband and wife team -- Dr. Tyler Curiel and Dr. Ruth Berggren -- prepare to relocate to San Antonio, Texas and will leave behind the city torn apart by Hurricane Katrina -- the same city where they worked tirelessly in 100-plus degree heat to rescue frozen cells and tissue from destruction during a storm that destroyed nearly everything in its path. They worked for one week caring for trapped patients at the inner city Charity Hospital, using diminishing generator power and the very basic of supplies. And they worked by flashlight to preserve their temperature-sensitive cells -- the cells that made up most of their life's work. They were successful in their mission -- and happily saved the cells of one of Curiel's medical students who once worked in his lab but died in 2004 of a rare cancer.

In September, the duo will leave New Orleans and will begin work at a nationally recognized cancer center -- the San Antonio Cancer Institue. Curiel will share his expertise in gynecological cancers -- specifically ovarian cancer -- and Berggren will join the health science center as an infectious disease specialist.

I sometimes complain about the lack of warmth I've encountered from medical professionals throughout my journey with breast cancer. There have been glimpses of compassion. And there are a few who stand out as truly caring and concerned. But there seems to be a general lack of sensitivity. Maybe it's a side effect of the job -- distance -- that I should have been prepared for. But instead I was shocked by how I often felt forgotten, like a number, just one of many in my same boat. And this makes me sad -- for me and for all the others who sail rough waters in search of health. I have waited in lobbies for hours -- four hours one time -- and I've been encouraged to toughen up. I've rarely felt comforted -- except by a few who have hugged me or placed a hand on my shoulder. That's all it takes. A simple gesture or kind word.

Hearing the words "You have cancer" is a traumatic experience for most adults. Having to tell your loved ones and friends that you have cancer is just as hard. Being a parent and having to tell your young child that you have cancer is one of the toughest conversations many adults face. The American Cancer Society reports that one in seven women in the U.S. will develop breast cancer during their lifetime, and roughly a quarter of them will do so while they still have children living at home. That is just one statistic of one form of cancer and there are more to consider. 

So what do you tell your young child and how much detail should you get into? Most children have seen commercials, heard conversations, experienced some form of educational material on the subject already. Should you tell the truth, hide some facts, or try to avoid letting them know all together?

Wendy Schlessel Harpham, MD wrote a book called When a Parent Has Cancer: A Guide to Caring for Your Children. In this book she states that one of the biggest mistake parents make is trying to hide the truth from their children. "Even small children will figure out that something is wrong, even if you don't tell them," she says. "Kids are observant and smart, and if you give them too little information they will try to figure it out on their own. If you don't tell them, you lose control and you are less able to guide the child through the changes in their world in healthy and hopeful ways."

Telling the truth, giving them understanding and the support they need, and educating them about your cancer may be the toughest conversations you will ever have in your life, but it will help you and your child in gaining the confidence to cope with the challenges that you both will face.