ABCs Good Morning America co-anchor Robin Roberts has heart. You can read all about it in her article titled A Heart in the Right Place in the July 2007 issue of Ladies' Home Journal -- and her book From the Heart. She writes about her job, about how she was never the most brilliant person to work alongside Charles Gibson and Diane Sawyer but how she tends to put herself in the position for things to happen.

"Often, the person who catches the break is the one standing there with her arms outstretched at the right moment," she says. There she was, arms outstretched. And here she is, high atop her career ladder.

Roberts also writes about her strong military family, her athletic nature -- she played basketball in high school and college -- and about facing her fears.

You may not have known it but actor Sean Connery has been fearing cancer for the past two decades.

The Scottish Connery, 76, has been seeing doctors for 20 years so growths in his throat could be monitored. Fearing the worst -- cancer -- Connery wanted to stay on top of things.

Results from a recent medical appointment reveal Connery has been given the all-clear, according to his brother Neil who is also plagued by throat polyps.

Some were concerned about Connery's absence from a New York Tartan Week charity show he was scheduled to host two weeks ago. Apparently, there was nothing to worry about. He was just just getting his check-up, and he later assured fans he is in good health.

"It is something which needs to be followed through," says his brother. "You have to have yearly checks and that is why Sean went to the hospital, just to make sure everything was all right."

Connery's father died of throat cancer at age 69. Connery himself was rushed home from filming in Africa in 1993 due to throat problems. He later received radiotherapy treatment.

I had no idea my February 10 post Some children's bath products linked to cancer would spark such great debate. At the very moment I write, the post has received more than 64,000 hits and 70 comments.

I must admit when the comments started rolling in, I was a bit nervous. Even though I merely reported the facts on this topic, had no claim to any of the information, and didn't even share my opinion on the matter, the highly charged words written by so many well-meaning readers made me feel a bit like I was caught in the middle, like I started an argument and needed to jump back in, sort things out, and create harmony among those responding to my words.

But then I realized debate is not such a bad thing. It sheds light on all sorts of valid viewpoints. It educates. It raises awareness. And that's what cancer causes are all about.

Having read all the comments that now are officially assigned to this one post, I am so much more enlightened than when I summarized the story I came across revealing that some bath products contain a bit too much of a chemical called 1,4-dioxane, a probable human carcinogen that is already known to cause cancer in animals.

All I really knew at the time I wrote the post is that the FDA has no regulation over this chemical and that cosmetic companies must monitor themselves. Some don't do such a good job, and herein lies the debate.

Some readers say big deal, what's the harm really in a little extra dash of chemical in a whole tub of water. Perhaps if our children soaked all day for many days in this chemical, cancer might strike. But a quick bath with a tiny trace of 1,4-dioxane is not likely to do any harm. One reader wrote that we shouldn't stress so much about headlines that scare us into believing everything causes cancer, that we'll probably live a whole lot longer just living our lives free of constant worry.

Another camp of readers say a little bit of something bad is still too much. Over the course of a lifetime, how do we know our children won't pay for our mistaken belief that this hype is just -- hype. Some cancer surviving readers wonder if their cancer was caused by their plentiful childhood bubble baths. And some go to great lengths to find natural, organic, chemical-free products, whatever the financial cost.

A few consultants for these natural products left their own comments, claiming to help those consumed with anxiety. Others scolded these business people for capitalizing on the fears of others with products that have not been proved any safer.

There are advocates of moderation who wrote. And individuals seeking more information. And people who located resources for others to investigate.

There is indeed a rich commentary on the link between bath products and cancer that follows one short post I wrote late one night, after my own children were bathed -- with Dove soap and generic shampoo -- and put to bed. And I am indeed happy to know my small contribution on the topic has generated such a powerful windfall of thought and concern.

Cancer-related fear once consumed my mind. Now it sits lodged in the back of my brain and only presents itself on rare occasions.

I handle my fears so much better now than when cancer was new and fresh and raw. My fears hardly ever cause me real anxiety, they don't cripple my mental functioning anymore, and more than ever, they serve to focus my efforts in life. When fear strikes, it's usually a wake-up call of sorts, a reminder to leave no stone unturned, a summons to keep on living.

Although so much less threatening than they once were, my fears still exist. And I like to review them once in awhile, lose myself in a little emotional housekeeping, tidy up some of the mess cancer made. I always feel better when things are in order -- fears included.

• I fear a breast cancer recurrence, the return of a tumor that rises to the surface of my skin and presents itself again underneath my fingertips -- or in my worst-case scenario is lost among dense breast tissue, undetected by self-exam, and caught too late by some combination of mammogram, ultrasound, and MRI.

• I fear more than anything another cancer -- something entirely different from breast cancer, something buried in my body and not as responsive as breast cancer to treatment. I am prepared for a second visit from breast cancer because I know how to proceed, know I will succumb to treatment that is familiar, know I will remove both breasts in the most radical of life-saving approaches. But cancer in my lungs, brain, bones, blood, ovaries is out of my realm. And these cancers -- among many others -- really scare me.
  

• I fear that my mom and my sister -- my first-degree female relatives -- will one day follow in my breast cancer footsteps. I once thought family history trickled down from above, from older family members. Now I know the disease can start with anyone. I am the anyone in my family. I am the reason my mom and sister are closely watched and monitored and tested. I am the one that put the fear of cancer into their hearts and minds -- and into mine.
  

• I fear having another baby. I fear the return of cancer during pregnancy, leaving me with difficult choices regarding my health and my baby's health. I fear cancer returning after a baby is born, leaving me with one more child and more treatment to manage. I fear another cancer would lead to a decreased chance of survival and another baby would leave my husband feeling stranded should I die too soon. And I fear having a baby girl who would inherit the very real chance of developing breast cancer at some time during her life.
  

• I fear not having another baby. I fear the regret I may feel one day, perhaps 50 years from now when I am healthy and cancer-free and without the child I longed for. I fear I am being overly cautious, too tentative, a bit selfish. A fellow cancer survivor once wrote me, "I learned that my family continues, even if I do not. I also learned that they are at least as tough as I am so will cope with the genes I pass to them and their own cancer battles if needed. Finally, I learned they look out for each other just as I looked out for them. No matter what your future, you will never regret giving another child a place in your family." I fear this man may be right.
  

• I fear dying at a young age. I fear leaving my children before they are grown. I fear leaving my husband a single parent, my mom someone who has lost a child, and my sister an only child. I have been told over and over again that my chances of survival are great, fantastic even. I have a 93 percent chance of not dying from breast cancer. This does seem great -- until I take into account that this percentage is good for only five years. My five years will expire when I am 39 years old. What happens then, I am not sure. The only thing I am sure about is that five years is not enough time. I want more, need more, demand more. Yet I fear my days may be numbered.
  

These are the fears that keep me focused. And while they are sometimes not-so-pleasant, I am in no hurry to resolve any of them. I am thankful really to have these fears swirling in my head -- because it means I am alive. And for me, being alive with fears is better than not being alive at all.

On December 8, 2006, I wrote about a Danish study investigating the possible link between cell phone use and cancer. This largest-ever study of it's kind put fears to rest. Cell phones do not cause cancer, said researchers who announced that cell phone users -- even long-term users -- are at no more risk of developing cancer than their non-cell phone using counterparts.

There's just no biological basis for concern about radio waves, reported the lead investigator of this study. But another newer study reports something entirely different.

Long-term mobile phone users are more likely to develop cancer -- brain cancer, on the side of the head where the phone is held -- according to the Radiation and Nuclear Safety Authority in Finland. It will all be detailed later this year in the International Journal of Cancer, but the general gist of the study is already circulating.

The study -- the second one to suggest an increased risk of cancer due to emissions from cell phones -- found that people who regularly used cell phones for more than 10 years were 40 percent more likely to develop nervous system tumors called gliomas. Comparisons were made between 1,521 people with gliomas and 3,301 people without the tumors. While no connections were initially made between the phones and cancer, a link was found when researchers specifically focused on those who had used their phones for more than 10 years.

Short-term use of cell phones has never been linked to cancer. That's good. But I tend to believe cell phones are going to become even more a staple of our technologically-driven lives than they are now. And so 10 years may actually be considered short-term one day -- which means we all may soon be at risk.

For now, until research becomes more conclusive, we get to pick and choose which study to stand behind. So take your pick -- and stay tuned for future scientific revelations.

A few days ago, notification of an e-mail arrived in my inbox. It popped up right in front of me, with the sender's name -- Amy Wilson -- glaring in black print right before my eyes. Amy is my friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer just after my own diagnosis. We e-mailed frequently about our cancer hopes and fears and so it was never before odd that a message would travel from her computer in Ohio to mine in Florida. But on the day this one e-mail arrived, it was odd -- because Amy died two weeks ago, after a 15-month battle with the disease we both vowed to conquer.

The e-mail was not from Amy. It was from her husband, Paul. And it was as comforting to hear from him as it was odd to see Amy's name flash in front of me. You see, I have wanted to call Paul, e-mail Paul, send a card to Paul -- something. I have wanted to reach out in some way, even though I have never met the man who thought he would spend the rest of his life raising his two children with Amy. But I never could figure out what I would write or say or send. I have been afraid that it would be hard for him to talk about Amy's death. I've been afraid that it would be hard for me to talk about her death. So I have waited, hoping the passage of time would help prepare me for some sort of action. And in the end, time was not necessary. Because Paul reached out to me. And this is what he wrote in the e-mail he sent from Amy's mailbox.


And now I can contact Paul, because he has opened the door. He -- the one suffering the greatest loss -- has comforted me. And now I need to thank him.

My mammogram and ultrasound today revealed nothing but normal, healthy tissue. The doctor said my pictures looked beautiful -- and she could find not one thing to worry about. She really looked for something -- because I was convinced there was something wrong when I found a lump-like bump in my left breast two weeks ago. So convinced that I was riddled with anxiety and panic and fear. But now I am happy and content once again -- and relieved that my fears were unfounded.

The explanation my doctor offered for the lumpiness I detected goes like this: my breast has been swollen and plump ever since my lumpectomy and radiation over the course of almost two years. Slowly, the swelling is disappearing and so all the tissue hidden under the plumpness is coming to the surface. It's always been there -- she could see it when she looked at my previous mammograms -- but I haven't noticed. Now, it's become more apparent as my breast returns to its normal size and shape. And so it seemed new to me. And suspicious. And wrong. But it's okay. It's normal. It's nothing to worry about.

And so I am not worried. I am settled and calm and thrilled to be surviving breast cancer, without fear that the disease is coming back. At least for today.

The Beck family blogs about life in California -- about soccer games and parades and hikes and family trips. They display happy photos of their kids eating pancakes made by daddy and playing on the beach and dressing up for Halloween. And they also blog about breast cancer -- because Valerie Beck, wife and mom of two young children, was diagnosed with this disease on June 26, 2006.

Valerie is just two months into her journey and has just completed her second chemotherapy treatment. She has already survived surgery and scary pathology results and some dark moments. But Valerie will surely conquer cancer with her happy take on life, her supportive family, and her ability to go with the flow -- however unpredictable it may be. And her husband -- author of the family blog -- keeps all readers updated on Valerie's progress. He is positive, hopeful, and a bit frightened too. On July 8, he wrote:

What a past couple days, my beautiful bride Valerie, my wife, my life long partner has a serious fight in front of her. She is going to grow old with me, she is going to help me spoil our grandchildren, we will beat this! I have faith, and I believe, but I also believe you cannot hide from the awful truths, this is not a nice disease. Three of the best doctors in the world do not come rushing to your aid in ONE DAY if they thought "you will easily make it through this" (which is what it seems I am always telling Valerie). I am trying to be strong, I feel I have to be, but sitting here in front of an inanimate object I find it easier to share my inner fears. I do have faith we will make it through this ..... it just won't be easy.

It won't be easy. But it can be done. Best wishes, Beck family!

Lynne began her blog on August 6 -- one week ago and two months after she endured surgery to clear a clogged bile duct and received the grim and frightening diagnosis of gallbladder cancer. Her cancer is stage IV -- not an uncommon staging for a hard-to-detect disease that many will only survive for two to six months. So Lynne is scared but still strong and hopeful and full of faith. Her goal is to live -- not die -- with cancer, even though her days may be numbered. So Lynne blogs her thoughts and fears and all the bits and pieces of information she gathers about a disease that is rare and resources that are scare. It helps her. And it will surely help others. And here is a glimpse into what she shared in her first post.

If you had only six months or a year to live, would you want to know? What would you do with the information? Would it make a difference in how you lived your life? These are questions I have been asking for the past two months. In asking them, I have also noticed how little guidance there is for this process. Who have I known personally who was able to anticipate their death? I can think of only two individuals, and I never asked them whether or not they were living differently in their awareness of their mortality.

So, those are the themes in this blog. I look forward to a dialog with those I know, and those I don't about this strange, life changing journey.

To Lynne -- and to all others who are faced with the disease -- may you find peace and comfort and strength in every step you take, every direction you follow, every path that becomes your road to recovery.

I am an expert in the game of what-if. I guess it's because my recent what if this hard lump in my breast is cancer worry turned into Oh My God, it is cancer that I am so polished at this exercise in all things irrational. Sure, some worries will be fulfilled by reality but for the most part, things turn out okay. But still, I worry. When a bone hurt in my arm last year, I was sure it was bone cancer. It wasn't. When I felt a soft bump on the roof of my mouth, I whisked myself to the dentist for my mouth cancer diagnosis. It was just a little bit of inflammation, probably from a cold. A headache landed me in a tube for a scan of my head. It revealed nothing interesting, and ibuprofen fixed me right up. And lately, I am checking every mole, freckle, spot, speck, and discoloration that adorns my fair skin.

I asked about each of these what-if marks yesterday at my annual skin cancer screening. Surprise -- nothing is wrong with me. But all unfounded fears aside, there is some method to my madness about skin cancer because I have had several bad burns in my life, have spent too many hours in the sun in search of a tan, and have already had a few pre-cancerous spots removed from my skin. So I do plan to monitor my skin -- just maybe not every day -- for the ABCDs of melanoma. And you should too -- because melanoma is the deadliest of skin cancers, and it is known for spreading, which makes treatment essential. So consider these what-ifs when screening yourself for skin cancer.

What if a spot on my skin is Asymmetrical? This means that one half of the mark on your skin does not match the other half. See your dermatologist.

What if the Border of the spot is irregular? This means that the edges are ragged, notched, or blurred. See your dermatologist.

What if the Color of the spot is not uniform? This means that shades of tan, brown, and black are present. Dashes of red, white, and blue add to the mottled appearance. See your dermatologist.

What if the Diameter is more than 6 millimeters? This is about the size of a pencil eraser. Any growth of any mole should also be of concern. See your dermatologist.

It is estimated that 44,000 Americans will develop melanoma annually. Of these people, 7,300 will die. But the death rate is declining -- because patients are seeking help earlier. Perhaps the ABCDs of melanoma are helping. I hope they help you -- and me too.

FORCE: Facing Our Risk of Cancer Empowered is a nonprofit organization for women with increased risk of cancer due to family history and genetic status, and for members and families in which BRCA mutation may be present.

You can find information on risk management, health care, advocacy and also join in on a chat line or message board. There is also a help line to call for those who need support and are concerned about hereditary cancer.

One aspect of the site that I really like is the section for pre-vivors. These individuals have not been diagnosed with cancer but have a predisposition to cancer because of a genetic mutation. This section of the website talks about chemoprevention for breast and ovarian cancer, risk management, family history, genetic counseling and much more.

This is a great resource for those with an increased risk for cancer because they too have to make medical decisions and they face some of the same fears that cancer survivors do.

In the second part of the two-part exclusive interview with ABC's Good Morning America Diane Sawyer, Sheryl Crow shares she is cancer-free and feeling great as a breast cancer survivor. The diagnosis of breast cancer came as a surprise as she is not a smoker and has no family history of the disease. She received enormous support from her family and friends during treatment, whom she refers to as "this incredible tribe of women." Before Dana Reeve died of lung cancer, she gave Crow advice on dealing with the emotional aspects of being a newly-diagnosed cancer patient and dealing with the recent separation from Lance Armstrong by telling her that the only way to go through grief was to grieve.

Crow talked about meditating and changing her diet. "I kind of went into a full-on Eskimo diet, where I ate a lot of salmon. In fact, I'm salmoned out of my brains ... and really green vegetables, just eating really clean, organic food. Listen, I haven't had a doughnut in I can't remember when."

Breast cancer forced Crow into an introspective place of self-realization in facing and overcoming fears -- and the wisdom that comes with that when she said she tried to at least address her fears and not be overcome by them. "The fear of things not always working out. You come to a point in your life where you realize it's not my job to prove to my parents or to my record label or to the world or to my lover that I matter. The fact is that you matter."

"It's not a good place to be concerned with always being right with everybody, always pleasing people, because ultimately you wind up betraying yourself a lot."

Crow shared that she sees her breast cancer diagnosis and being a cancer survivor as part of life's deepening experiences where obstacles are removed and opportunities come in.

Last Friday night, Crow joined the Dave Matthews Band in a concert at Fenway Park. But before she went onstage -- in part of giving back as a cancer survivor --  she made an unannounced surprise visit to Boston's Dana-Farber Cancer Institute to visit children with cancer at the Jimmy Fund Clinic.

I found Sark long ago -- about 10 years ago when I was working with college students on a campus in Virginia. Part of my job was supervising Resident Assistants -- students who live and work on the residence hall floors and are responsible for building community among residents -- advising them and counseling them and mentoring them and stepping in when conflict and trouble arises. It's a tough job -- being a peer and being in charge at the same time -- and Resident Assistants receive intensive training on how to best manage a floor of students possibly living away from home for the first time. I got to train these student leaders at times -- and Sark's books helped me motivate, inspire, and get to know these individuals. And over the years, as I assumed other jobs and roles and purposes, I found that Sark was still a great companion for me. And now I realize that what Sark has to offer really applies to anyone looking for a little inspiration, a little direction, a little creativity, a little delight.

I have had many moments in my life where anxiety and panic have filled my mind. But this is normal and necessary really as life delivers all kinds of situations that produce all sorts of emotions.

I can recall vividly anxious feelings before a school exam but this is what motivated me to study and prepare and to pass the exam with flying colors. This anxiety gave me a push, a kick in the pants -- in a good, healthy way.

Without a bit of panic, I may not have cared. I may have been aloof to the importance of doing well in school. But while life has presented me with a good amount of this healthy emotion, it has also tossed an abundance of unhealthy anxiety and panic my way -- the kind that has consumed my mind and twisted my insides. The kind that made peaceful living seem impossible.

It is official. The first cervical cancer vaccine has been approved by the Food and Drug Administration, FDA. Merck's Gardasil cervical cancer vaccine is the first of several cancer vaccines expected to win approval this year. Gardasil, which targets human papillomavirus, HPV, will be given in three doses over six months. HPV is known to be responsible for the majority of cervical cancer cases.

The cervical cancer vaccine is not without its warnings though. In an earlier post, cervical cancer vaccine protects and promotes cancer, we noted a caution that research has shown the vaccine can actually raise the risk of cervical cancer if the woman is already infected with HPV at the time she receives the cervical cancer vaccine. So, it is not for every woman.

We also noted in an earlier post, cancer vaccine facing Christian Right opposition, there is strong objection to the cervical cancer vaccine based on religious convictions regarding sex and teenage girls. According to experts, girls in their early teens are the most likely to benefit from the cervical cancer vaccine.