It only takes two bottles of wine consumed over the course of one weekend to more than double the risk of breast cancer, according to a Danish study of 17,647 women which breaks down like this: women who drank 22-27 drinks per week had twice the risk for the disease compared to those who drank only one to three drinks.

Think about this:

More than a quarter of participants, age 44 and older, drank more than the recommended 14 drinks per week. One in 10 were binge drinkers -- they had more than four drinks per day. Thirteen percent were weekend bingers -- they had more than 10 drinks between Friday and Sunday. A drink is considered one bottle of beer, wine, or spirit. In Denmark, each unit translate into 12g of alcohol.

Published in the European Journal of Public Health, this study found breast cancer risk is greatest when drinks are consumed in a short period of time. This is because the concentration of alcohol in the blood peaks, making it more harmful to the body.

"What our study suggests is that the total amount of alcohol consumed has a detrimental effect on the risk of breast cancer, but also the drinking pattern seems to have an impact," says lead researcher Dr. Lina Morch.

The bottom line: to reduce the risk of breast cancer, women must limit the amount of alcohol they drink.

It feels like summer here in Florida. Our temps topped 86 degrees last week and this kind of heat prompts my little boys to request their favorite summertime activity: swimming.

My kids don't quite understand that the temperature outside is not the same as the temperature of unheated water. And so as soon as warm weather arrives, they dash for their suits and insist we make a trip to the neighborhood pool. I oblige, convinced they'll want to head home once they submerge their piggy toes in pure ice.

But somehow, the temperature doesn't register. They plunge right in, dunk their heads and kick and flop and float. They are happy as clams, quivering lips and all. I am happy too as I watch their joyous moments from the privacy of my lounge chair, tucked away in the shade that borders my kids' perfect playland.

Thanks to chemo, I am the mommy who hides in the shadows during any sunny event. It's been two whole years since my last dose of toxic drugs, but something about the sun and the heat and the residual effects of my infused poison causes my skin to produce red, itchy, unsightly bumps. It happened last year and already this year and I'm wondering now if this will be a life-long nuisance, if I will be seeking shade for the rest of my years.

It's all OK really. Secluding myself from the sun's rays is a pretty healthy venture. And I'm not a real pool enthusiast. Any my boys are old enough to swim independently. And it's peaceful in the shade. So I'm not bitter about this unexpected side effect of chemo -- it's called UV recall -- and I'm not complaining. I'm merely marveling at the power of the drugs that hopefully killed all the cancer in my body, the drugs that seem to creep back year after year, perhaps reminding me that in the whole scheme of things, red, itchy, unsightly bumps are not such a bad life condition.

There's this guy. His name is Matthew Zachary. He's a cancer survivor, a motivational speaker, a concert pianist, and the founder of a resource portal for young adults surviving cancer.

Steps for Living, Inc. -- also known as I'm too young for this -- was created by Zachary because he wants us all to know there are awesome cancer support services out there for adolescents and young adults. He means really awesome opportunities -- like spa retreats, online forums and blogs, social networking, camping excursions, fertility education, peer counseling, financial scholarships, and more.

You may be too young for cancer, but you are not alone, says Zachary whose mantra is Get Busy Living. And this is exactly what he is doing, despite challenges and setbacks in his own cancer recovery.

Think about this, an e-mail written by Zachary for those near and dear to his heart:

I am writing to share that I have suddenly gone deaf in my left ear. The condition is called Sudden Sensory Neural Hearing Loss.

After consulting with the country's best hearing experts as well as my oncologist, it has been determined that this is unequivocally a latent, long-term side effect of my post-operative cancer treatments from eleven years ago. Evidently, the excessive radiation dosages to the left hemisphere of my brain have caused irreparable neurological damage to my cochlea, which has ceased functioning.

There may be options (cochlear implants) but I will not know more for several weeks. As you can imagine, this is a devastating blow to my personal life and music career, especially since I remember fighting so hard to regain dexterity and muscle control in my left hand when it ceased functioning prior to my initial diagnosis in 1995.

That said, it has only reinvigorated me to stay the course and continue to advocate on behalf of the more than 500,000 young adults living with, through and beyond cancer each and every year. Now more than ever, I stress the importance of recognizing that remission is not a cure and that public awareness and adequate funding for adolescent and young adult cancer survivorship programming is tantamount to that of cancer research.

This is what it means to be a cancer survivor.

To read more about Zachary's powerful journey, click here for an unbelievably moving essay -- titled The Cost Of Living: No Cure For Cancer -- written by this unbelievably grounded guy.

When I sit still in the middle of the day, I fall asleep. I'm not sure if it's a side effect of cancer or of life in general, but as a result, I keep myself moving at all times.

I'm always doing something -- writing, emptying the dishwasher, packing a school lunch, reorganizing cabinets and closets and drawers. There's always something to fiddle with, something to keep my body from crashing into a deep sleep.

My little boys have been playing with Lego all afternoon. For hours they have been content and happy and full of imagination. They've built flying boats and castles and pirate contraptions. My wish: to just sit and watch them, to absorb their words, their sound effects, their interactions.

I tried to just sit and watch, tried to hone my quiet observation skills. And then I fell sleep.

It's a dozing-off kind of sleep that creeps up on me and for brief moments, I am lost to the world, sometimes even dreaming for short periods of time. So I find I am more alert and productive in the study of my children when my mind is busy with some sort of task. It's not my ideal scenario. But I figure it's better to be awake and bonding with my boys -- even if it means I'm multitasking -- than sleeping through their special moments.

My boys are still building -- they are making flags for their ships -- and I'm awake. And writing and preparing dinner too.

When I told my husband that the use of cannabis is being linked to a five percent increase in lung cancer risk -- that's 15 new cases each year in New Zealand where a study was just conducted -- he seemed to think this risk is comparable to his dying from a grasshopper landing in his eye.

A scientist John is not, but his thoughts on the matter seem to parallel international thinking on the drug which goes something like this: the risk marijuana use has on cancer incidence is so very low it's hardly worthy of much worry.

A California study of more than 1600 people last year found no link between cancer and smoking the drug, despite researchers' prediction they would find some kind of connection.

New Zealand researchers have found a connection, though, and however small it may seem, they say it's significant.

They found the risk of developing lung cancer increased by about eight percent each year for people whose cumulative exposure equated to smoking one joint per day -- about the same as the increase for someone who smokes one pack of cigarettes per day. They also found the younger someone starting smoking cannabis, the greater the risk and that contributing risk factors include smokers' deeper inhalation and the tendency to hold smoke in their lungs.

Cannabis, the most commonly used recreational drug in the world with 161 million users, has been thought to have a protective effect against cancer due to its chemical THC, which appears to kill aging cells and keep them from becoming cancerous. This study may prove otherwise.

Lung cancer tumors in mice are shrinking -- with the help of a hormone important in the control of blood pressure.

This new discovery, led by scientists at Wake University School of Medicine, suggests some drugs used to manage blood pressure might also prevent or treat lung cancer.

This all came about when it was noticed that lung cancer rates were lower among those treated for high blood pressure with angiotensin-converting enzyme, or ACE, inhibitors. These drugs, including Capoten and Lotensin, increase levels of angiotensin-(1-7) in the bloodstream.

In studies, the angiotensin-(1-7) hormone caused a 30 percent decrease in tumor volume in mice. Tumors in mice not treated with the hormone more than doubled.

This study, published in the journal Cancer Research, is the first demonstration of the effect in animals.

Battling cancer can at times feel like slowly paddling upstream against currents that are both forceful and unforgiving. Sometimes reprieve comes only when we find others in the same boat, others submerged in their own rough waters, others who truly know what it's like to navigate a dreadful disease.

I am lucky -- in an odd sort of cancer way -- because I had breast cancer. Many women have breast cancer. And while this really is a horrible fact, it makes for a great sea of support. At times when I felt I was drowning in cancer, I reached for my lifeguards -- the women who paddled before me, the women paddling alongside me -- and they coached me, guided me, saved me from one the worst side effects of cancer. Isolation.

I have rarely felt isolated in my cancer journey and as a result, I have not thought much about this lonely cancer consequence. But I am thinking about it now -- thanks to a reader who has courageously shared her story with me, in hopes of locating someone in her same boat, in hopes of creating connections with other survivors who share the challenges of her disease.

Tanya has anal cancer. She was diagnosed one year ago -- during a routine colonoscopy -- with squamous cell carcinoma in-situ in her anal canal, on the wall between the anus and vagina. Previous abdominal discomfort, much like dull menstrual pain, preceded Tanya's screening but she was sure it was due to menopause. She was 53 at the time.

But it wasn't menopause. It was cancer. And it was devastating for Tanya who was spared radical surgery in exchange for a combination of radiation and a chemotherapy called the Nigro Protocol. First came a mitomycin push followed by four to five days of 5-Fluorouracil. Radiation came next -- for six weeks -- and then Tanya endured another round of the same chemotherapy regimen.

"The treatment was brutal," Tanya says. "By the end of the sixth week, I was in a lot of pain, especially since the affected area had a lot of traffic and could not exactly be decommissioned and allowed to heal."

Although she was told by her oncologist she tolerated her treatment well, Tanya says it was pure hell.

Tanya's treatment ended in March and an August biopsy revealed she is doing just fine. Her cancer appears to be gone. What is not gone, however, is the discomfort that still plagues her -- both physically and emotionally. And while the physical scars are simply terrible -- she feels pain during urination and bowel movements and is currently unable to have intercourse with her knight-in-shining-armor husband -- the emotional isolation is overwhelming distressing.

"I have not shared this experience with too many people since I feel awkward discussing that part of my anatomy and because the condition is so uncommon," Tanya says. "I would, however, be most grateful to discuss any or all of this with someone who has been through the same experience."

If you have been in Tanya's same cancer boat, have paddled similar waters, or know someone with whom she might connect, please consider contacting this brave survivor at sultana@cyberight.net.

Esophagitis is a condition that happens when the esophagus is inflamed and can cause pain and discomfort when swallowing. This is a common side effect when treated with radiation to the chest and neck area and can also be caused by chemotherapy treatments.

Patients receiving radiation for lung cancer, Hodgkin's disease, Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma and head and neck cancer could be at risk for developing esophagitis. After about two weeks receiving the radiation patients might complain of a burning sensation along with pain when swallowing. Usually this condition clears up after a month or so after radiation treatments. When esophagitis occurs with chemotherapy treatments it usually will appear in a few days after treatment.

Some ways to help deal with the symptoms of esophagitis:

• Avoid hot and spicy foods
• Avoid acidic foods such as tomato sauce and orange juice
• drink plenty of cool liquids
• Cold foods are easier to tolerate
• Avoid eggs, ice cream, milk shakes
• Use nutritional supplements to maintain weight
• Ask your doctor about medications to help with esophagitis

I am in a slump. I feel tired and slow and unmotivated. And ever since October 14 -- when I ran in the 5K Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event -- I can't seem to find the inspiration to exercise. I am making myself do it -- here and there -- but my usual drive and push and spunk are missing. Typically, I crave exercise and feel lethargic if I don't accomplish some sort of daily physical challenge. But for the past week or so, I have no craving, no desire to walk or run or lift weights, no appetite for my usual fitness routine. I am just plain tired.

Fatigue is a common side effect of cancer treatment -- even years after treatment ends, according to some experts. So perhaps my drop in energy and enthusiasm is due to the cumulative effect of my own treatment for breast cancer that just ended in June. My treatment spanned almost two years. Maybe it's no surprise my body is lagging behind my expectations for physical health.

Experts also say exercise helps combat fatigue. I believe this -- it's why I usually like exercise. It boosts my adrenaline, perks me up, makes me feel alive. If only I could get back into the swing of things, these feelings might come flooding back. But right now, I am not even thinking about how to find my old groove. I am just too tired.

Red wine consumption is associated with a reduced risk of various forms of cancer--leukemia, breast and prostate, in animal studies and in real life. A new study found that drinking more than three glasses of red wine a week reduced the incidence of abnormal growths and cancers of the intestinal tract by two-thirds.

Red wine has something that white wine does not have. A compound found under the skin of the grape called resveratrol. Resveratrol content is higher in red wine than white wine because the grape skins are removed early in the fermentation process for white wines. Resveratrol interferes with all three stages of cancer formation--initiation, promotion and progression.

Dr. Joseph C. Anderson, an assistant professor of medicine at the State University of New York at Stony Brook, says "I generally advise against drinking, but if your going to drink, drink red wine". Anderson's study included 1,741 people. The incidence of colorectal neoplasia, cancers and polyps that can become cancerous, was 9.9 percent in those that abstained from alcohol, 8.8 percent in those who drank three glasses or more of white wine a week and 3.4 percent in those that drank three glasses of red wine a week, a 68 percent reduction.

Whatever the cause of the protective effect, Anderson said he advises people against taking up the wine habit for health reasons.

I have a new friend who is a new breast cancer survivor. She is surviving a new diagnosis, a recent lumpectomy, and the moments leading up to another surgery to further investigate the margins surrounding the tumor removed from her breast. She is surviving the first phase of her breast cancer journey. A phase full of uncertainty and fear and panic. A phase so new and so fresh and so raw, her mind is whirling. A phase that has her grasping for any bit of direction she can find as she navigates a terrifying, unfamiliar road.

My friend is a young wife and mother whose worries are consuming her. She e-mailed me today and asked if I ever have moments when I look at my young children and worry that cancer will take me from them while they are young. She asked if I have always been so sure I will be okay. And so I replied with this candid cancer confession.

I've written twice before about a young woman named Diem Brown. I first wrote in August about her appearance as a contestant on MTV's Real World/Road Rules Challenge reality show. I wrote about how despite a recent diagnosis of ovarian cancer, she took herself to Australia to compete in physical and mental challenges with other spunky 20-something competitors. Brown, 25, fought for a cash prize of $250,000 -- while fighting cancer at the same time.

Brown did not win the grand prize, but she did win the admiration and respect of her castmates who on an MTV reunion show applauded her tireless and heroic efforts. In my second post, in September, I wrote about Brown's presence on the reunion show, about her strength, about the great mindset she acquired prior to returning home from Australia for treatment. I wrote about her foundation -- Live for the Challenge -- a wedding-type registry that allows patients to register for prescriptions, wigs, anything that helps them manage their illnesses. I did not write about the wig Brown wore on the show -- but it was apparent she had lost her long, blond hair and was masking the most visible side effect of chemotherapy.

Brown reluctantly yet powerfully unveiled her head on national television just a few nights ago during the beginning of another MTV Real World/Road Rules Challenge. During this installment -- The Duel -- Brown competes again, this time with the shortest of brown hair covering her scalp and with a fierceness that rivals anything she's offered on past shows.

Brown is back. She's in Brazil. And she is beating cancer.

I remember thinking when my grandma was a spunky 80-year-old -- still going to aerobics classes in her purple tights -- that it must be sad to be such an age when so many friends and acquaintances are falling ill and passing away. My grandma was always one to care for others, call on others, pray for others -- and often she seemed to be the only one in her circle who was thriving. Somehow, she took it all in stride and continued baking and gardening and sewing and living strong until her own death at the age of 86 -- when she left her remaining friends and acquaintances wondering if their own time on Earth was approaching a quick end. At the time, I thought this loss of friends was merely a side effect of aging. It didn't seem to concern me at my own young age of 30. I didn't really know any 30-year-olds who were dying. And I didn't predict anyone my age would be dying until I was closer to the age of 80. How wrong I was.

I am now 36 years old. And I know many women my age who have died -- most of them because of breast cancer, the same disease I have been fighting for nearly two years. So it's not only sad to me that people my age are dying, it's also quite personal and frightening -- for it could easily me in the same predicament. So I feel vulnerable -- so many years earlier than I imagined.

I think I know how my grandma must have felt when her loved ones were leaving her. And I think I will take her same approach to coping with this unfortunate fact of life. Although I couldn't possibly bake and garden and sew like she did, I can keep busy with my own hobbies and interests. And I can continue living strong until my own death -- which hopefully won't occur until after I've made my appearance in purple tights. About 50 years from now.

Just two months after her mother lost her battle with gall bladder cancer, Liane was diagnosed with breast cancer. It all happened earlier this year -- and while Liane is still mourning the loss of her mother, she is also still managing the madness of her own disease. Liane is surviving with courage, with determination, with the same powerful spirit that powered her mother's fight.

Liane lives in a small city -- population 43,000 -- in northern Alberta Canada. She has been happily married for 18 years and has two daughters, ages 13 and 15, and a golden retriever named Sunny. Liane loves to garden, cook, read, and spend time with family. She normally works full-time in a real estate and property management office but has been blessed with six months off for treatment. Liane is already -- without a doubt -- a survivor.

Her diagnosis came at the same time as mine -- in November 2004, just after her husband, John Edwards, and John Kerry lost the presidential election. She received the same treatment as I did -- lumpectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation -- and so I was especially interested in her breast cancer journey as it paralleled my own in many ways. But just after her diagnosis surfaced in the media, Elizabeth Edwards disappeared from the radar -- perhaps like we all do in some way while immersed in the maze of cancer. So I lost track of her. But now -- almost two years later -- Edwards is back from cancer, back in the headlines, and back with a new book, Saving Grace.

Edwards, 57, reveals on the pages of her book the intricacies of her cancer ordeal. She shares that she experienced every side effect possible throughout her treatment. She bruised, bled, developed sores in her mouth, experienced numbness in her hands and feet, lost her hair, felt nauseated, ached in her bones and joints, and suffered yellowed and damaged nails -- and then chemotherapy stopped and she went on to the burning, blistering effects of radiation. Still, she managed to survive. And she thanks those who helped her survive -- for their tenderness, encouragement, humor, tears, and love -- and she writes all about it in her memoir that reveals how she juggled life and marriage and kids and cancer and how she arrived in a new place. A happy place.