The build-up to 2006 was a bit uncertain for me. At the end of 2004, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and set my sights on short-term survival, moment by moment, day by day. I wasn't sure 2005 -- in its entirety -- was a guarantee so I tried not to look too far ahead. I focused on the completion of each of the year's cancer steps -- surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, the beginning of a year-long Herceptin therapy, and so much more -- and somehow, I survived the whole ordeal. And the whole year.

I made it through 2005, and I have almost made it through 2006 -- a year marked by a cancer slow-down, a more normal existence. Moment by moment, day by day, the burden of cancer loosened it's grip on me. And as I begin to reflect on the year that has all but passed before my eyes, I realize it turned out just fine. Here are seven reasons why.

• On May 19, 2006, my very first post published on The Cancer Blog. What a thrill it was -- and still is -- to find myself engaged in a useful pursuit as a result of my own cancer experience.
  

• On June 28, 2006, the last drops of Herceptin made their way through my body, marking the conclusion of 17 doses of this hopefully life-saving potion.

• On September 15, 2006, my port came out, signaling my acceptance of a life without drug treatment, my faith that I will never again need a foreign object sewn under my skin.

• On December 6, 2006, 18 months of counseling came to a close. Armed with skills to cope with all sorts of emotional issues, I am marching forward, free of the disabling anxiety and free-flowing tears that first landed me in the counseling chair.

• For much of 2006, I have been a student of fitness training, pushing myself physically in search of better health. It's not always easy, I'm not always motivated, and I am known to whine a bit -- but still, I am happier just knowing I am working toward sustained health.
  

• Throughout the entire year, I have walked away from every medical check-up and follow-up with a clean bill of health. I hear the longer someone survives cancer, the less likely the disease is to return. Happily, I have two years of survival under my belt.

• Ever since my diagnosis, I have been reaching for others with journeys similar to mine. First, I reached for support and guidance and reassurance. Then, I reached to offer my own version of support and guidance and reassurance. The year 2006 has been full of rich connections, found only because of cancer. Reaching makes me feel good.

Yes, the year 2006 turned out just fine.

I am thankful. Plain and simple. I am thankful -- for these seven reasons.

One. Joey and Danny. The little boys who tore out of my body at a combined almost 21 pounds and have been tearing through life with the same screaming spirit they exhibited the very moments they entered the world. I didn't know it at the time, but these boys were delivered just in time -- for they became the angels who guided me through breast cancer. I can't even consider how I would have survived without them.

Two. Each and every member of my family who has supported me, loved me, motivated me, and comforted me during all phases of my life. The same people who really stepped to the plate when the breast cancer deck was stacked against me and I was faced with losing my life.

Three. The millions of breast cancer survivors who came before me. The women who fought, conquered, lost -- and paved the way for my own survival.

Four. My hair. It's brown. It's curly. It's nothing like the blond, straight hair I loved for 34 years -- before it was stolen by chemotherapy. But it's hair. And it's mine. And it sure beats having no hair at all.

Five. Writing. I entered college as a journalism major and somehow pursued entirely different interests. Eighteen years later, I am back to writing -- thanks to the material cancer gave me.

Six. Connections. I have collected a whole circle of friends whose faces I have never seen. Yet our shared experiences with cancer and other life-changing events have made us fast friends. Our bonds are deep, meaningful, and nothing like I've ever known.

Seven. My health. The love of my husband. My niece and borrowed little girl. Reminders of my late grandmother. Loving co-workers. The roof over my head. The food on my table. And so much more.

I am thankful. Plain and simple. I am thankful.

I really do believe deep down in my gut that I will survive breast cancer -- that I will witness the wonder of my children growing up, that I will be married long enough that the years blur together, that I will live to a ripe old age. But I still have moments of doubt -- moments powerful enough to make me think I should not have a third child, just in case cancer comes back. To combat these moments -- that seem to surface more now that my treatment has stopped -- I try to keep busy, keep my mind occupied, keep living. My steps for surviving in the short-term include writing, journaling, exercising, relaxing, and spending time with family. But I also follow some steps for long-term survival -- steps that transcend the moment and give me purpose and direction. And here are seven of them.

At the end of the September 30 FACTors Breast Cancer Educational Conference in Tampa, Florida, there will be a passing of the torch ceremony to celebrate the end of Ovarian Cancer Month and the start of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. But first, conference participants can gather a whole lot of information on a whole lot of topics at this 19th annual conference, hosted by the Tampa-based H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center & Research Institute. The conference -- with a registration fee of just $25 -- includes breakfast, lunch, an art exhibit, and a variety of educational sessions which span topics such as healthy eating and exercise, genetic connections, fertility, sexuality, early onset menopause, caregiving, relaxation, communicating with children about cancer, and shaping the future.

Actress and breast cancer survivor Lynn Redgrave's daughter, Annabel Clark, will deliver the keynote address and will discuss her book, Journal: A Mother and Daughter's Recovery From Breast Cancer. There will be exhibits and door prizes and a special lunch guest too -- breast cancer survivor Dee Dee Jonrowe, the world's top female dog sledder and 23-year veteran of the Alaskan Iditarod race.

From 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM on September 30, the topic of breast cancer will be top priority for all who attend this conference in Tampa. And then the next day -- which kicks off the month of October -- breast cancer will be top priority all over the country when Breast Cancer Awareness Month commences. And we pay special attention to this disease that already gets a lot of special attention. Fortunately.

My breast cancer friend Adriene -- who I wrote about on May 19 -- e-mailed me today about a friend of a friend who was just diagnosed with breast cancer. This friend -- Jen -- is 31 years old and just yesterday had a lumpectomy. Adriene asked if I could be in touch with Jen since, like her, I am young and I am a breast cancer survivor and I had a lumpectomy. So far, we are somewhat alike. And depending on the results of Jen's pathology report, we may be even more alike -- if she follows a path anything like mine that included chemotherapy and radiation therapy and Herceptin therapy -- or our paths might diverge from one another. Regardless, I feel a connection to this woman, much like I do with anyone with cancer whose path I cross, anyone who is sent my way, anyone who finds me for the sole purpose of support.

So I told Adriene in my return e-mail, "Yes, I will contact Jen." And I have already sent her an e-mail. And I hope when she reads it that she finds a trace of comfort, a hint of encouragement, a glimpse of hope that can somehow transform scared souls into confident spirits. I hope that she emerges from under the rock of breast cancer. Like I did. Like Adriene did.

MyCancerPlace is a new cancer community website where cancer patients can give and receive support, learn from the experiences of others, and share information. Modeled after the popular MySpace, MyCancerPlace is the first time this social technology has been used to create an online community  where members in their 50's, 60's, 70's and beyond -- whose lives have been touched by cancer -- can create a free web page with text and photos.

Michael Horwin, founder of Cancer Monthly, launched MyCancerPlace. The Horwin's motivation to create quality resources for the cancer community is a strong one. Michael and Rafaele Horwin's 2-year-old son Alexander died of brain cancer in 1999.

According to the Horwin's, "After doctors administered what they said was the best treatment available, and despite the risk of side effects including infection, heart damage, lung damage, deafness, infertility and a second cancer, just to name a few, we trusted the doctors when they said this was the best option. Alexander's cancer quickly spread through his entire body, and he died four months later. We were horrified and angry to later discover studies that showed the same chemotherapy had hastened the deaths of hundreds of other children the same age with the same brain cancer."

The Horwin's say had they found this research earlier, they would have made different treatment choices. MyCancerPlace is another resource for cancer patients to discover information and explore options in cancer treatments and survivorship, and to connect with others facing the same struggles with cancer.

Our sister blogs, Autoblog and Blogging Baby have posted stories that illustrate the benefits of internet connection in lives touched by cancer. In a you-can-run-but-you-can't-hide karmic twist of justice, Matt Frame found his stolen 1967 Camaro SS online at an eBay auction. Frame and his father had rebuilt the car before his father died of cancer. Of course, the seller denied that it was the same car, but Frame was able to identify the car as the one stolen from him.

On the cosmic scales of fairness, balance was achieved when Anthony McCoy found the 1969 Chevrolet Camaro that he had spent twenty years helping his father restore before the death of his father to cancer. Although it was not stolen from him by a thief, it was lost due to financial circumstances when his mother was forced to sell the car after the loss of his father. Found at eBay, McCoy made the successful bid. To McCoy, it is priceless.

As today's final example of the power of the internet to break down any barriers of time and space that can separate us from justice, the scales of fairness, or the ability to nurture relationships beyond the immediate, Jason Levine is a pediatric oncologist who stays in touch by email with his young cancer patients and their families by visiting their personal websites. Blogging Baby found a sweet and humorous story told of how a young patient role plays his email contact with her.