Italian opera superstar Luciano Pavarotti, hospitalized on Wednesday with a fever, is doing better and should be discharged within the next few days, according to his wife, Nicoletta Mantovani.

The 71-year-old tenor underwent surgery for pancreatic cancer one year ago and has since endured at least five rounds of chemotherapy. Although not confirmed, some sources say Pavarotti has pneumonia.

1. My Life Without Me: This is a story about a young working mother named Ann with two daughters and a husband. She lives with her family in a tiny trailer in her mother's backyard. After she collapses one day she goes to the doctor who gives her grave news. She tells no one. Ann's emotional journey leads her to unexpected places and gives her life new meaning: the tender moments, the volatile emotions she must keep inside, the recognition that she has the power to understand, examine and fully live her own life.
2. Sweet November: Each month free-spirited Sara starts a new relationship. her task is to take a month to make one man become a better person, and then she moves on. While November rolls around and Sara targets a busy Tycoon, she does not plan on falling in love. But they do, and as a result, Nelson learns the painful secret behind the brevity of Sara's romances.
3. The Family Stone: A comedy with heart. This story is about an annual holiday gathering of an unconventional New England family. Before the holidays are done, relationships will unravel while new ones are formed, secrets will be revealed and the Stone family will come together though its extraordinary capacity for love.
4. The Doctor: Jack is a doctor with it all. He is then diagnosed with throat cancer. Now that he has seen medicine, hospitals, and doctors from the patient's perspective, he realizes there is more to being a doctor than surgery and prescriptions.
5. Fine Things: Bernie Fine, a is a home loving New Yorker. One day, while walking the floors he meets Jane, a little girl who has lost her mother. When they find her mother, Liz, Bernie is enchanted with her and they become involved and eventually marry. Liz becomes pregnant, but their joy is short lived as after their son, Alexander, is born Liz is diagnosed with Leukemia.
6. Wit: This is a story about a women receiving treatment for ovarian cancer. She is in the hospital bed showing what life is like for a cancer patient, most likely going to die from her disease, to hold on to her wit.
7. Stepmom: Jackie and Isabel have nothing in common--one is the ideal mother, the other is struggling to be any kind of mother--until circumstances force them to share a family and put aside their mutual hostility for the sake of the children. They discover how precious life, love and the ties that bind them really are in this tale about the intricate circumstances surrounding what happens when a man's new wife learns from his former wife that she is terminally ill with cancer.
   

Apple CEO Steve Jobs delivered a commencement speech at Stanford University on June 12, 2005. It was about following curiosity and intuition, about looking back and connecting the dots in life, about beginnings and endings, about death. Jobs, a survivor of pancreatic cancer, knows a thing or two about facing death. And the words he chose to relate his life-threatening experience to a crowd full of hopeful graduates are powerful and inspiring. I could paraphrase his message -- but surely something would be lost in my translation. So here is a bit of what he said -- word for word.

Dealing with cancer in private is hard. Dealing with cancer publicly can be even harder. CEO Donna McAleer -- the founding executive and public face of the large, growing health care company Elant -- knows this firsthand. She just recently went public with her breast cancer diagnosis and prognosis after rumors of her demise started circulating. McAleer set the record straight, announcing that she is doing just fine. While her experience has been frightening, she is surviving well -- and she wants the public to know. She has run Elant for 20 years and wants to dispel any myths about its stability. Apple CEO Steve Jobs faced the same public drama in 2004 after surgery for pancreatic cancer and subsequent drops in Apple stock. Jobs recovered -- and so did the stock -- but the speculation that swirled was powerful and potentially damaging. Just as it was that same year when Kraft Foods was criticized for withholding details of its CEO's hospitalization.

There is some debate in the business world about all of this -- about whether or not executive illnesses should be disclosed. For public companies, one opinion is that there is an obligation to respond quickly to the public. In a private company, it's up to the CEO. McAleer's Elant is not a publicly traded company and there is no worry about stock price -- but her decision to reveal her personal health crisis was the right thing to do, she says. "I have an obligation to share this news in how I progress, in order to educate and make sure people aren't frightened by it," she said in reference to the memo she sent to her 700 employees and community groups too.

I'm open and honest about my own cancer experience because I believe it can help others -- and it helps me to talk about it too. So I'm a fan of a forthcoming approach in the workplace. I appreciate that some fear repercussions that might result from such a disclosure. But honesty may be the best policy -- for prevention of rumors and addressing worry and raising awareness too. McAleer seems to agree as she takes this opportunity to speak up, to encourage women to seek mammograms and to follow up on them.

I was examined yesterday by my radiation oncologist and two medical students during a six-month follow-up appointment. And any apprehension I had prior to the visit -- about a recurrence of breast cancer or the detection of cancer somewhere else in my body -- is gone. Because I walked away with the news that I am doing just fine. No lumps or bumps or suspicious masses were found. No enlarged lymph nodes were detected. And since I did not report any pain or tenderness or sensitivity or other trouble, I was sent on my way with nothing more than a notice for a return appointment in another six months. I have other appointments hanging in the balance -- one with my medical oncologist in August and a mammogram in November -- and I am sure hesitation and worry will again sneak into my head. But for now, I can only feel the true exhilaration that comes from truly good news. Like the exhilaration that comes from a breathtaking moment at the ocean -- where the power and beauty of the sea and the sky and the sand is all it takes for one five-year-old boy to feel amazingly free.

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.