When my father was diagnosed with end-stage esophageal cancer, I'll never forget what a (very) distant acquaintance who lived in the same apartment building said to me. I ran into her in the hallway and she said that she had heard about my dad's illness and she was very sorry. Thank you, I said, so am I. Then she asked the question.

"Did he smoke?" Thud went my heart, as it sank.

I believe there is a difference between policy and people. As a nation we should do all that we can from a public health perspective to reduce the risk of cancer, including encouraging and offering incentives to people to improve their health through lifestyle changes, including quitting smoking.

However, when it comes down to the individual level, to a real-life person, does it really matter if someone who is afflicted with cancer puffed away or ate crummy food or drank themselves silly? Do we still not hope and pray for their recovery? Do we not mourn them if they die?

Back to the question. The one stopped me in my tracks as I acted my way through my day in the fog of anticipatory grief.

"Did he smoke?"

Looking back, maybe she was just curious.

Or maybe she was seeking reassurance.

Reassurance that the monster that is cancer wouldn't happen to her, wouldn't kill someone she loved.

That I couldn't give her, regardless of my answer.

When the First Lady of Surfing, Rell Sunn was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 32, she was told she had months to live. She lived each day as if it were her last -- with complete passion and compassion -- and lived another 15 years.

When I posted that each year during the Luau & Longboard Invitational event to raise money for the Moores UC San Diego Cancer Center, the Rell Sunn-Queen of Makaha Award in memory of Rell Sunn is given to honor the person or organization that best displays the qualities of compassion, unselfishness, aloha spirit and dedication in the fight against cancer -- I went in search to learn more about Rell Sunn.

It's kind of a blur how exactly I came to receive a phone call from a volunteer at the American Cancer Society just after my breast cancer diagnosis. I must have checked a box on one of many medical forms shuffled my way during this confusing time. Or I requested assistance from someone, somewhere, at some point in time. I'm not really sure. But I am sure of this -- one very nice woman, a young breast cancer survivor herself, called me one afternoon from the Reach to Recovery program. She asked me about my situation, told me of hers, and led me to resources -- other survivors, support groups, and the fitness group Team Survivor -- and she met me one afternoon with a goodie bag full of information and comforting gifts. She was my first link to the world of breast cancer survivors.

I've come to know this woman in different circles since she first called me. She was a physical therapist at the same center where I received therapy for post-surgery and radiation concerns. She has been present at every walk and fitness event and cancer function I have attended. And she leads the local Team Survivor group -- so I receive e-mails from her about all sorts of events and gatherings and opportunities for joining a spirited group of strong women. And just today, I received an e-mail invitation from her -- intended for all young survivors she knows who might be interested in becoming Reach for Recovery volunteers. I replied instantly. Yes, I want to do it. She happily replied. So in a short time, I will receive training for this very important job.

It's not a hard job -- it just requires some phone calls and a few personal visits. And the ability to share advice. And words of wisdom. And love and care and compassion for those who may not know how to manage during a personal brush with breast cancer. Whether facing a possible breast cancer diagnosis, a new diagnosis, or a troubling time with lymphedema or reconstruction, Reach to Recovery volunteers offer a hand to anyone grasping for assistance.

I must have been grasping during my own difficult time. I just don't remember much about that time. All I know is that someone helped me at a critical time. And now it's my turn to be that someone.

When Someone You Love Is Being Treated for Cancer is a book of tips and insight from caregivers for caregivers when it comes to the needs and issues of being a caregiver for a loved one diagnosed with cancer. Published online by The National Cancer Institute, the introduction states, "The purpose of this book is to focus on you and your needs."

In reviewing it, I found it to be a valuable and realistic resource for family members who find themselves in the role of caregiver because a loved one has been diagnosed with cancer.

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.

Can you teach empathy and compassion? If you are a parent, the answer is yes. As a parent, you teach empathy and compassion to your children by the example of treating them with empathy and compassion; and in involving them in acts of compassion in the care for others. I believe caring for a pet in the home is one of the traditional ways of helping children learn empathy and compassion. Another is family participation in volunteerism and community-betterment projects.

Can you teach empathy and compassion to medical students as a university course? Medical schools are willing to try, and are hiring actors to train doctors good bedside manners when they have to give bad news. "A lot of these medical students are brainiacs who can absorb all the information they learn in class, but they don't know how to talk to people,'' says Joshua Stager, program coordinator at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York.

I think that is an over-generalization, and slightly less-than-generous statement in reference to the character and demeanor of all medical students -- but then again -- if you have watched the television show House, maybe a course in bedside manner is a very good thing for some medical students. Medical schools see enough of a need for education in empathy and compassion they are requiring these classes as part of medical training. Interestingly, a new section of a medical student's national licensing exam now includes tests on bedside manner.

In the United States, there is the war on drugs. There is a war on cancer. There appears to be a war on cancer patients who need to use medical marijuana. In Canada, the Global National is reporting that medical marijuana patients are being forced into the black market for the marijuana they need. In the United States, the same goes on. Borders blur, and the wars seem to be the same.

At the bottom of an old Winnepeg, Manitoba mine marijuana is legally grown and dried for cancer patients to use. But it is of such poor quality, it is estimated that a third of the pot is returned. Then there are the cancer patients who can not afford the cost Health Canada charges.

Because of these factors, cancer patients are turning to compassion clubs for help. According to Phillipe Lucas, who has set up a compassion club for cancer patients, "Compassion clubs are serving more people than Health Canada, we're creating a better supply than Health Canada. And we're doing more legitimate research than Health Canada and we're doing all of this at no cost to the taxpayer." Marijuana is classified as an illegal drug. Putting aside your opinion on whether marijuana should be legalized -- right now it is not legal -- and essentially this is making criminals out of cancer patients. Unless you are a cancer patient who has experienced the grueling cruel side-effects of chemotherapy, or the persistent pain of cancer, you might not appreciate that there are a limited number of drugs that work to alleviate side-effects and physical pain. Sometimes none of the prescription drugs work. For some cancer patients, marijuana seems to work.

Beth Brophy is a mother, journalist, author and breast cancer survivor who blogs with humor, anger and intelligence about the issues of cancer. In The Blame Game, she features a health column written by Jane Brody, who wonders at the assumptions of blame some people make when they hear of a cancer diagnosis. Brody, a health expert who lives a healthy lifestyle based on the information she writes about, was diagnosed with breast cancer seven years ago. "It seems that many people believe that if you do everything right -- which is not to say that I did everything right, just most things -- bad things won't happen. But bad things can and do happen. And they happen to the best and the worst of us."

Brophy wonders about the same idea about disease. In her blog she writes, "Some people seem to want to blame you for your bad choices when you afflicted with a random illness. It seems to give other people, the unafflicted, the illusion that they have some control over fate. If someone has lung cancer, the first question is always: Did he or she smoke? If someone has breast cancer: Is that person overweight, or is there a family history of the disease? Yet countless studies have shown that in most cases, these factors may be entirely beside the point."

Brophy is being kind when she suggests the motivation for blaming others for their disease is a self-protective mechanism to comfort the healthy in giving them an illusionary sense of control over fate. I believe it is more arrogant and sinister that that, and reveals a profound lack of compassion. When my son was young, he asked me how people were able to do mean things to other people. I told him, like the Grinch of Dr. Seuss, there are hearts that grow bitterly dark and shrivel in size from a lack of love for themselves and others.

Cancer is a physical disease. But it has striking affects on mental, emotional and spiritual wellness too. Worried Sick: The Emotional Impact of Cancer is a report done by Macmillan Cancer Support that illustrates the devastating emotional impact cancer can have for the patient and family living with cancer, and the lack of support services available to address these needs. Depression, anxiety, and isolation are common feelings. The entire experience of cancer can place a serious strain on the best of relationships. It can end less durable relationships. Divorce and separation can be an outcome of the stress of living with a life-threatening illness. Cancer patients report feeling alone and abandoned with no one they can really talk even when they do not live alone.

Personally, I know of a woman who was struggling through the grueling ordeal of chemotherapy. She had suffered all the physical side-effects of chemotherapy, such as hair loss, weight loss, weakness -- drained of any healthly glow. She was not in a good marriage to begin with, but at her most vulnerable and weakest moment, her husband actually turned to her and said, "Why don't you just hurry up and die." Up until that moment, she was not sure she was going to survive cancer. In that moment, she became determined not only to survive cancer, but her husband. Today, years later, she is a breast cancer survivor. True story.

For a surprising majority of cancer patients, the negative emotional impact of cancer far outweighs the physical reality of having cancer. The complete report -- Worried Sick: The Emotional Impact of Cancer -- is available as a PDF document. 

On April 17th, in his first visit to the Mayo Clinic, the 14th Dalai Lama will speak to patients and staff. Compassion in the Face of Suffering will focus on practices that encourage a peaceful mind and positive ways to live during difficult times. The Mayo Clinic will host a live webcast of the presentation on the website.

Buddhist monk, the 14th Dalai Lama Tenzin Gyatso, is the spiritual and political leader of Tibet, who is respectfully referred to as His Holiness. Yet he describes himself as just a simple monk.

Since his first visit to America in 1979, he has visited the U.S. dozens of times. He has been awarded numerous honorary doctorates, addressed major universities and partaken in scientific research involving powers of the mind disciplined by meditation. Speaking November 12, 2005 to a gathering of neuroscientists in Washington, D.C, he stated, "I feel, therefore, that a dialogue between neuroscience and society could have profound benefits in that it may help deepen our basic understanding of what it means to be human and our responsibilities for the natural world we share with other sentient beings. I am glad to note that as part of this wider interface, there is a growing interest among some neuroscientists in engaging in deeper conversations with Buddhist contemplative disciplines." I will keep you updated as more information becomes available regarding the live webcast.

Last night, I watched The New Medicine, hosted by Dana Reeve, and I was inspired. The message was everything I imagined Dana Reeve would so eloquently share as it mirrored the compassion, character and spirit of her life. During the show, several people were featured telling their personal story. One was a woman, who at 27, and single, had her large intestine surgically removed. This meant for the rest of her life she would be required to wear an external device to collect her stomach acids. Believing herself now devoid of any femininity, and unable to envision a future of hope or promise, she carefully collected the sleeping pills given to her each day, saving them for when she was released from the hospital. Once she returned home, she planned to take her life.

The actions of the medical staff reinforced her resolve that she was now something less than desirable, when each day, they arrived in white coats and gloves to remove and replace her device. When they finished they washed their hands and left her room. However, one evening, before her hospital release, a woman arrived, in evening wear and high heels. Stopping in to help on her way to an evening dinner date, she casually chatted as she removed the device, and carefully replaced it with a clean one. She did not wear gloves. The woman says she remembers the smell of her perfume and her beautifully painted fingernails. The woman who came to help her, washed her hands before handling the device. It changed the young woman's life, and in that single gesture of humanity and dignity, her perception of herself changed, and she rediscovered the first glimmers of hope. The young woman, now in her mid-life years, did not go home and commit suicide as she had planned, but went forward to embrace and live life, defining femininity on her own terms.