Liz Claiborne, fashion designer for working women climbing corporate ladders, died Tuesday at the New York Presbyterian Hospital after battling cancer for many years. She was 78.

Said Bill McComb, CEO of Claiborne's company since November: "In losing Liz Claiborne, we have not only lost the founder of our company, but an inspirational woman who revolutionized the fashion industry 30 years ago. Her commitment to style and design is ever present in our thinking and the way we work. We will remember Liz for her vision, her entrepreneurial spirit and her enduring compassion and generosity."

Claiborne, with husband Art Ostenberg and partners Leonard Boxer and Jerome Chazen, launched her label in 1976 after working for years as an unknown dress designer. Her brand featured ensemble sportswear with price tags below that of other designers and revolutionized the department store industry. Once compartmentalized, with pants in one department and skirts in another, Claiborne's coordinated clothing inspired the merging of once-separate departments.

On Friday, I had my annual OB/GYN appointment. It's the appointment known by all women for (1) its blood pressure check and humbling weigh-in, (2) the pee-in-a-cup ritual, (3) the get naked and change-into-a-paper-dress routine, (4) the finger-stick-iron-check, (5) the clinical breast exam, (6) the manual internal pelvic exam, and (7) the ever popular feet-in-stirrups Pap test. It's all so uncomfortable, so not fun. Yet it's all so necessary.

It was a visit with my OB/GYN that resulted in my breast cancer diagnosis two years ago this month. It was the clinical breast exam that confirmed the hard little lump I had found in the shower the previous day. It's what prompted my emergency mammogram a day later. It's what sent me on the wildest ride of my life. It's what keeps me going back for repeat yearly visits -- because I know if something goes wrong with my female parts, this doctor is likely the one who will make the discovery. He is likely the one who will save me from a late diagnosis of something terrible, the doctor who will set the wheels in motion for whatever comes after something terrible is detected.

I know already that (1) my blood pressure and weight are normal, (2) my urine is normal, (3) the paper dress is so not flattering, (4) my iron is normal, (5) my breasts are normal, and (6) my ovaries and uterus feel normal. I am only waiting on (7) the results of my Pap test that will reveal any abnormalities in the tissue of my cervix. This is the one test that can save me from cervical cancer or detect the disease in a stage that is completely curable. It's one of the best cancer screening tests around -- and I plan to receive it every year, year after year -- even if I have not one ounce of modesty left when it's said and done.

It's not so bad really. I'm accustomed to the rituals of the annual exam. I know the drill, know I will survive it all, know it's all critical for maintaining my health. So it's good really. Good -- compared to what could happen if something went undiscovered.