At the University of Florida, where my husband works, spouses can get campus I.D. cards which allow access to recreational centers, swimming pools, a university lake, and more. A few years ago, I stood in line for my card. It was during my chemotherapy treatment for breast cancer, and I wore a blond wig topped with a ball cap. Once at the front of line, a college student employee told me to remove my hat so my photo could be taken.

I couldn't take my hat off -- it covered a partial wig made for use with hats, and the very top was made of soft cotton and no hair. I didn't want to be photographed wearing my clown-like wig. I didn't want to be photographed bald. I wanted to look as normal as possible during a time when I felt nothing of the sort.

I told the I.D. center staff of my situation and although these young people seemed a bit unsettled by my story, they complied. And I now have an I.D. that pictures me, my blond wig, and my pink hat. It looks nothing like me. My post-chemo hair came in dark and curly.

Last May, Lori Raimondo set off on a cross-country trek in search of one dollar for every day her mother Lorraine battled breast cancer.

She called her 10,344-mile excursion Road to a Cure. Her goal was to raise $9,490. She ended up with nearly $14,000. She succeeded. She exceeded. And she donated every cent to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

Raimondo's driving journey is long over. But our collective breast cancer journey is not. And so Raimondo, in honor of her mother on this Mother's Day, asks friends and family and strangers alike to continue contributing to the breast cancer cause so that the road to a cure may one day come to an end.

Raimondo is accepting donations on her website. She will continue to pass on everything she gathers to help fund breast cancer research.

Joey, my oldest child, is six years old and already quite a clever creator. He can make houses out of sticks and boats out of cardboard boxes. He can build an entire city with toy blocks and crafty cabins with the same Lincoln Logs his daddy used more than 30 years ago. Most recently, Joey has been sharpening his skills with Lego.

Today, while his daddy built him a Lego jet, Joey constructed his own masterpiece. He called it his Cancer Center.

I wasn't around to hear Joey dedicate his building to such an important cause. But I heard about it after the fact when Joey offered me a mini-tour of the structure. I learned that the center has a helicopter landing pad and offices with windows for the employees. I was shown an emergency vehicle with its own system for taking blood from patients, rendering it healthy, and then returning it to the body. And then just as I wanted more -- more details, more specifics, more history on just why he built this cancer center -- Joey's attention moved elsewhere. And so I know nothing more about the cancer center sitting in the playroom of my house.

Cancer is no strange topic for Joey who has been along on my own cancer ride for the past two years -- so perhaps I am the inspiration for his architectural creation. But I suspect the real driving force behind Joey's latest project is the vacant land we passed yesterday. This land is the future site of a new cancer center in our city, and Joey probably heard me talking about the ground breaking ceremony that just took place. Regardless, cancer was on his mind this morning. And while the topic may be far from his mind now -- and I'm sure the building will be demolished by the day's end -- I am touched that for mere moments, Joey was invested in a noble cancer endeavor.

Johns Hopkins Kimmel Cancer Center specialists have figured out how to accurately test drive chemotherapy drugs to learn in advance which drug treatments offer each individual pancreatic cancer patient the best therapeutic journey.

Test driving cancer drugs is used widely to test cancer therapies, the Hopkins design is personalized to each patient who has relapsed after an initial course of chemotherapy. The standard drug given at this point is gemcitabine, which has a success rate of less than 10 percent.

Reporting on their work in a recent issue of Clinical Cancer Research and at the September meeting of the American Association for Cancer Research in Chicago, the Hopkins team said it took tiny bits of a patient's tumor removed after surgery, and implanted them into one or two mice. This process currently requires about six months to get the information on which drugs work best.

Manuel Hidalgo, M.D. Ph.D., associate professor at Hopkin's Kimmel Cancer Center says that "In the meantime, most patients are receiving their first rounds of chemotherapy and radiation. This information can guide therapy once patients relapse, which is generally in nine to twelve months with pancreatic cancer".

Pancreatic cancer accounts for more than 33,000 new cases in the United States and almost as many deaths. Less than five percent of patients living beyond five years.

Cell phone users in the United States have increased from 34 million a decade ago to more than 203 million this year. The cell phone is the invention people hate the most but can't live without even beating out the television. The old American Express saying, "Don't leave home without it" takes on a new meaning with the amount of use cell phones have in our world. Over the years concerns have escalated about if cell phones can cause brain cancer. 20/20 even did a show on that same subject back in 1999.

Although cell phone manufactures claim the phones are safe and will not cause brain cancer, it is a known fact that electromagnetic waves can penetrate the brain while holding the phone to your head. Thus the major increase in sales for cell phone head sets.

One fact is for sure about cell phones and that is the correlation between using cell phones while you drive causing more automobile accidents with injury and death. The statistic has increased so much that it is now being watched more closely than drivers under the influence of alcohol or drugs and some states are now making it illegal to drive and talk on a phone at the same time while holding it in your hand. Some studies are now showing that it doesn't matter if you hold it or talk while using head phones, the concentration levels of drivers are still more impaired than those drivers that drive while under the influence.

So you make the decision with your own common sense whether to use a headset or not while talking on your cell phone and whether or not  to avoid talking on the phone while driving. Of course some states will give you a ticket if you make the wrong decision on the last choice.

Lori is driving across the country trying to raise money -- $9,490 to be exact -- for breast cancer research. One dollar for every day that her mother battled breast cancer. And she is close. She has already raised $8,629.40 through sponsors and donations and has traveled a whopping 6,874 miles since she first hit the road in May. She's been through California and Nevada and North Dakota and Utah and Wyoming -- among other places. She camps and hikes and canoes and stops to see friends along the way. Like the friend she will visit today in Minnesota -- a friend who is surviving breast cancer. She stops at roadside attractions and restaurants and charming little overnight resorts. She stops for photos and to write on her blog -- and through it all, she reflects on the mother she lost almost one year ago. And she raises hope for others fighting breast cancer by giving 100 percent of her donations to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation. I am impressed. I am honored. I am in awe of what Lori is doing. Because I know I could never do it.

I don't like to travel -- and anything more than a three-hour trek in any direction, by any mode of transportation, is too much for me. And while I have traveled in my life to faraway places -- England, France, Germany, Italy, and more -- I do not enjoy any part of the process that gets me to and from my destinations. I'm not sure why. I just don't like it. But I admire those who venture to distant lands. And those who find excitement in a spontaneous trip. And those who tackle the long road across state lines for the pure thrill of it. And those -- like Lori -- who do it so others can benefit. So others can survive the disease that takes so many lives. The disease that took Lori's mom.