Advocacy runs far and wide. Thank goodness for that.

Think about this:

A new breast cancer non-profit organization has been launched especially for South Africans affected by the disease.

Founded by Samantha Galliet, the 31-year-old breast cancer survivor who made headlines with her "David and Goliath" battle to get life-saving Herceptin treatment, created PinkLink to give patients affected by breast cancer a voice.

PinkLink, focusing on the need for self-examination and awareness to encourage prevention and early detection of this silent epidemic, is intended to be a one-stop-shop with valuable South African based information on doctors, treatments, financial considerations, and health issues.

I wrote earlier today about my mom -- about how she was headed for a mammogram this afternoon. She has since been for her exam, returned, and shared the news that we all wish for -- everything looks fine. Nothing suspicious. No cancer. And so that is my gift for today.

I have received many gifts as a result of cancer -- the news of a clean and clear mammogram is just one such gift. There are many emotional gifts I've received since my breast cancer diagnosis a year and a half ago -- extra love, overwhelming support, loads of kindness, an abundance of prayers, recent compliments about my new dark, curly hair. And I've received many tangible gifts too that comfort me every day. When I walk into my kitchen, I see an angel made from a paper clip, a bead, and a ribbon -- it was a gift from my Chemo Angel once I graduated from my eight-week course in chemotherapy. When I walk into my bedroom, I see the quilt on my bed that was made by the loving hands of my mom friends and then delivered to my doorstep when I was sick, tired, and bald. I see a pink stuffed breast cancer bear sitting on my dresser and yellow, fuzzy, comfy socks inside my dresser drawer. I see a box of cards and letters and books and relaxation tapes -- and so much more -- that sits in another room. I wear a breast cancer charm bracelet that dangles from one arm and another that jingles from my other arm and a backpack that hangs from my back. I am surrounded by gifts that were priceless when they were given to me and are just as priceless today.

These gifts that adorn my personal space lift my spirits, warm my soul, inspire me. They are constant reminders of where I've been and how far I've come. My gifts -- good news from a mammogram, emotional rewards, and actual tokens of the love and support that surround me -- have become a therapy I never looked for, never knew I'd discover, and never would trade for anything.

There is something about reading stories about other cancer survivors that helps me in moments of despair. Sometimes I look to the blogs that I read regularly -- blogs that capture the essence of realities that are not my own -- and I feel somehow comforted. I gain perspective and can remove myself a bit from my own turmoil. I gather strength and hope from others who struggle like me. I absorb the words written in these journals and see the photos of real people with real struggles and the big picture becomes clear to me -- breast cancer is widespread and far-reaching. And because of this, I have a lot of company of my path of uncertainty. This is what soothes me.

Books help me too -- the kind of books with little snippets of advice and wisdom from other survivors. Like Hope Lives! The After Breast Cancer Treatment Survival Handbook. My favorite chapter is about recurrence. There are passages from women who have had breast cancer two and three times and these strong women remind me that I if necessary, I can fight again and again and again. This book is humbling, sobering, and powerful. The voices that inhabit the pages put a bounce in my step and peace in my head. Hope does in fact live.