Left-handed women under the age of 50 are more than twice as likely to develop breast cancer than those who are right-hand dominant.

What?

Yep, that's what a new study reveals.

This left-handed conclusion, published in the journal Epidemiology, comes from the study of 12,000 women in the Netherlands whose medical histories were followed for 13 years. Discounting all other factors -- lifestyle, environment, and other disease -- left-handers came up with a risk of breast cancer 1.39 times that of right-handers. For pre-menopausal women, the figure climbed to 2.41.

According to the American Cancer Society, smoking damages most organs in the human body and is linked to at least 10 different cancers. Smoking accounts for nearly 30 percent of all cancer deaths. Yet one in four Americans still lights up. So how many days are you taking away from the longevity of your life every time you light up.

According to studies on smokers, if you smoke 1 pack of cigarettes a day for 10 years you lose 2 years of your life. If you smoke 2 packs in 10 years time you lose 4 years. If you have smoked one pack of cigarettes a day for 20 years you lose 4 years off of your life and if you smoke 2 packs a day in 20 years you lose 9 years off of your life.

You are just as much at risk if you are breathing second hand smoke. Make the commitment today to quit smoking and live longer or help someone you love give up the habit that strips away years of their lives.

Dr. Len Lichtenfeld, MD, is the deputy chief medical officer for the American Cancer Society. He is also a blogger and authors his very own blog -- called Dr. Len's Cancer Blog.

Dr. Len writes on his blog about all sorts of topics related to cancer. He shares his opinion on the recent drop in breast cancer cases (December 15, 2006), he promotes the Great American Smokeout (November 14, 2006), he sounds off on lung cancer screenings (October 25, 2006), and he urges parents to always slather sunscreen on their children (October 5, 2006). He has so much more to say -- and his blog is a great stop for those wishing for more information on hot cancer topics.

As this year comes to a close, Dr. Len offers a review of what he believes were the hottest cancer topics of 2006.

Dr. Len reflects in his blog about decreased cancer death rates that represent real progress in the fight against cancer. He calls the HPV vaccine a breakthrough and he recaps the STAR trial -- a comparison of raloxifene to tamoxifen to reduce the risk of recurrent breast cancer in post-menopausal women -- with emphasis on how raloxifene proved just as effective as tamoxifen, but with a better safety profile. He calls new targeted therapies a dream -- with a hefty price tag -- sure to garner debate and discussion in 2007.

Dr. Len reviews the Surgeon General's report on second-hand smoke -- it's harmful to non-smokers, the report says -- and he marvels at the capability of science to approach an understanding of what makes a cancer cell a cancer cell. He also remarks on how remarkable it is that chronic myelogenous leukemia is in fact chronic and no longer fatal, thanks to the drug Gleevec.

Of course, there is ample attention given to the declining incidence of breast cancer, reportedly due to less women using hormone replacement therapy, and the risks weighing on those who are overweight and obese, and survivors and supporters who gathered for Celebration on the Hill -- the site of one incredible American Cancer Society event.

Dr. Len closes his review of 2006 with recognition of three celebrities who lost their lives this year to cancer -- Dana Reeve, Ann Richards, and Ed Bradley. And while he recognizes there are other lives and other stories that deserve mention, there is simply not enough time or space for him to do justice to every noteworthy item.

"What we have seen over the past year is an incredible leap forward in cancer research, diagnosis and treatment, and I suspect there are going to be even more exciting developments in the coming year," says Dr. Len who looks forward to 2007 -- a year that is sure to deliver more hope and more progress in the fight against cancer.

Lymphedema is a chronic condition that causes excess fluid to collect in tissue and produce swelling. In breast cancer survivors the swelling can occur in the arm or hand because the lymphatic system has been compromised by surgery or radiation. Its an unattractive and painful reminder of having breast cancer that never goes away.

Robin Miller, 23, and Rachel Levin, 36, are young breast cancer survivors that developed lymphedema after their breast cancer treatment. They were required to wear an uncomfortable, beige orthopedic-looking sleeve. They decided that there had to be a better solution for the look and feel of the sleeves they would have to wear. They approached Kristin Dudley, a Drexel fashion design graduate, with the idea of creating fashionable compression garments that would bring together form and function.

These three friends have made it their mission to help breast cancer survivors manage their lymphedema in a fashionable way, and inspire them to feel confident and attractive with their company called LympheDIVAs. The armsleeves are made of high-tech fibers and come in fashionable colors and designs.

"The look and style of the sleeves has remained the same for over 30 years" said Rachel Levin. "There is absolutely no reason it can't look stylish and still be an effective medical device"

NIRScanner is a battery-operated hand-held infrared-based optical scanning device that the developers claim is both affordable and safe and could be used by women as an at-home personal health care solution to the early detection of breast cancer.

However, Drexel University and the University of Pennsylvania scientists state the device is not designed to replace mammography, ultrasound, or other methods of screening for breast cancer, only that it offers an additional method of detection, much the same as monthly self-exams, only far more accurate at early detection. The simple device surpasses self-exam by touch in that it can detect changes in the breast that traditional self-exam could not, and the developers state that it would alert women to seek medical attention should the device detect a problem in the breast.

The NIRScanner makes steady low beeps as it moves over the breast. Using a type of near-infrared light that travels deep into breast tissue, if the hand-held device detects a tumor the beep tone gets higher. A microchip stores the information on the size and location of the tumor as the patient performs the self-examination and the information can be taken to be analyzed on a computer by a physician.

Although the researchers state that the device proved to be accurate over 90 percent of the time, it is still being tested, and needs funding to be brought to market. To read more about the NIRScanner, they have made an illustrated brochure available as a PDF document.

I've been keeping a journal ever since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I first wrote by hand in a pink fabric-covered book, sprinkled with multi-colored polka dots. It looked feminine -- which is why I bought it -- and it's vibrance made me feel inspired, motivated, eager to write down the dreaded details of the beginning of my journey. Then I stopped writing in this book and began typing my words in an on-line journal -- a blog. My husband designed the presentation of it, with a pink banner that serves as the backdrop for the title -- my Breast Cancer blog. My first entry was completed on December 21, 2004 and I am still chronicling my journey here. I am also writing for this site -- the Cancer Blog -- and I write whenever and wherever else I can record my words. I do it because it helps me process information in a quiet, calming, introspective way. It soothes me, helps me work through panic and anxiety, helps me heal, and helps me chart my progress. When I look back at what I've written, I realize how far I've come -- or haven't come -- and it helps me move forward. I recommend journaling for everyone, and I recommend these seven simple suggestions for getting started.

My port -- that thing that pops up from under the skin on my collarbone, that thing that by default stays in place because I can't decide whether or not to remove it -- is now officially in maintenance mode, now that my treatment for breast cancer is complete. My last Herceptin infusion was on June 28. And my first port flush was today. For as long as I keep my port -- and for as long as it has no real use -- I must have it flushed one time each month. So today, I strolled into the cancer infusion center where I've spent many hours and this time spent just a few minutes -- enough time for my usual chemo nurse to puncture the skin on top of my port, push through a rather large needle, and inject a dose of blood thinner into the lines of the port to keep clots away. The whole procedure was harmless, painless, no big deal at all. And I will return one month from today for a repeat performance.

One day these once-a-month visits may become a hassle. After all, I have to find a place for this appointment in my already-busy schedule and find childcare for my kids and find a place to park. I have to numb my port and endure a needle stick and sometimes fight traffic to get home. And the whole trip to and from the cancer center takes longer than the procedure itself. Clearly, this may be a waste of time for a port I don't even need right now. But at the moment, this visit is just what I need while I sort out the details of my post-treatment world. I need to go back to the infusion center. I need the comfort of the drive. I need to feel part of the chemo community. I need medical people swirling around me. I need a bit of hand holding. For now anyway.

I was present for death only one time in my 36 years of life. I consider this both a bad and a good thing. It's bad because I did not want my grandmother to die -- and watching it happen made it so real, so vivid, so painful. I don't think I would have ever chosen to watch my grandma die -- to watch her slip from consciousness to coma, to observe her altered body once death arrived, to witness the movement of her body on a stretcher as it was wheeled out of the house from the bedroom I still see every time I visit my mom's house. But I think I am lucky really -- and this is the good part -- because I got to be with her during her final moments. I got to watch her body as it lay still, peaceful and calm and still breathing. I got to talk to her and although she could not respond, I believe she could hear my words. And it makes me happy to know my grandma may have known I was with just prior to her flight to heaven. And after her flight, I got to touch her cool hands. I got to feel the power of the passing of one life -- a long life -- and I got to feel the comfort of a death that was not ugly or painful or difficult. It was sad -- it's still sad -- that my grandma died three years ago. But what a privilege it was to be part of the day she left this world.

Susan DeWilde left this world in much the same way -- with loved ones by her side. She was a fighter and had conquered several rounds of breast cancer, a tumor in her spinal cord, uterine cancer, lymphatic cancer, and then leukemia, which took her life at the age of 53. I don't know this from Susan herself but from her friend, Christy Mack -- who helped her accept her death and guided her into her own final moments so that she could escape her pain and die peacefully. Christy writes about her beautiful friend and her empowering death in an article that appears in the August 2006 Oprah Magazine. Titled Friends to the End, Christy's story details how she soothed her friend, cradled her hand, and talked her through her last breaths. She helped her on her way during a time her friend feared most. Christy writes, "What she and I shared the night she died was a precious gift of friendship, emotionally profound and sacred in its perfection. It broke my heart. It strengthened my soul."

This I understand.

The White Rock city council has asked the city's social and economic development committees to study a proposal that would ban the sale of all tobacco products in their small idyllic seaside town, and report back on its feasibility.

Councilman Matt Todd, who proposed the ban, said "I got tons of calls and e-mails from people who are asthmatics or just allergic to cigarettes or had family members die from smoke, or were cancer researchers or worked in cancer wards. Clearly this is a public dialogue that people are wanting to have."

According to news reporting, if the city council approves the ban, White Rock will become the first city in Canada to ban outright the sale of cigarettes and other tobacco products. White Rock is located on the southern coast of British Columbia, Canada.

Lori Fischer began making handmade dolls for her children. Soon her friends were asking for a one-of-a-kind doll of their own. Once, when a friend was suffering hair loss, she made a doll without hair -- and she included wigs and hats for the doll as accessories and gave it to her friend. She started holding doll making workshops. According to Fischer, women and their daughters, or groups of friends, have spent the day sewing, eating, and socializing in a way that has all but been forgotten.

In the fifteen years since she began making dolls, her dolls have evolved into works of art that are shown in local art galleries.

Last year, she was awarded a grant through the City of Oakland's Cultural Arts Funding Program to visit children in two hospitals for the purpose of teaching them to make hand-stitched, one-of-a-kind dolls.

The children that she works with are cancer patients at the Bone Marrow Transplant Center who are required to spend long periods of time in the hospital. Spending time making a doll takes the child's mind off the struggles and challenges they face. Each child is allowed to be expressive and create a doll that reflects individual creativity and personality.

Some of the dolls the children have made, and dolls that Fischer makes, can be seen at Dolls4ArtSake.

I sometimes complain about the lack of warmth I've encountered from medical professionals throughout my journey with breast cancer. There have been glimpses of compassion. And there are a few who stand out as truly caring and concerned. But there seems to be a general lack of sensitivity. Maybe it's a side effect of the job -- distance -- that I should have been prepared for. But instead I was shocked by how I often felt forgotten, like a number, just one of many in my same boat. And this makes me sad -- for me and for all the others who sail rough waters in search of health. I have waited in lobbies for hours -- four hours one time -- and I've been encouraged to toughen up. I've rarely felt comforted -- except by a few who have hugged me or placed a hand on my shoulder. That's all it takes. A simple gesture or kind word.

I see and use my handmade quilt every day. It was created especially for me by more than 20 talented friends who crafted the lavender, pale green, and white patches into a flowered work of beauty and serenity and warmth. It sits at the end of my bed -- folded neatly and by coincidence matching the color scheme of my room -- until the time at which I turn in for the night and I spread it out and allow it to comfort me and warm me. It has covered me every night since the night it was delivered to my doorstep by a few of the friends who helped make it -- and the peace it brings me today is no less than the peace it brought me the first night I used it -- the night when I was weak and sick and struggling with breast cancer.

Heather Crowe never smoked, but she was diagnosed with lung cancer. After 40 years of working as a waitress in smoked-filled restaurants, she became a lung cancer victim of second-hand cigarette smoke. Four years ago, she began a campaign of lobbying the Canadian government to pass a law banning smoking in all public places. In television ads for Health Canada, Crowe described herself as the face of cancer caused by second-hand smoke. Eventually, Crowe convinced the Ontario Government to pass the Smoke Free Ontario Act. On May 31st, all bars, restaurants and indoor public places must be 100 percent smoke-free. The act will ban any smoking in any enclosed public places and will add restrictions to the promotion, handling and display of cigarettes in stores. As a result of her efforts, Crowe is credited with accomplishing more in tobacco control to protect public health than any other one person. She had told people she wanted to live long enough to see the anti-smoking legislation go into effect.

Sadly, Crowe died one week before she could see that happen, but not before she accomplished what she set out to do, and her legacy to protect the health of the public from the harmful effects of second-hand smoke will live on for generations to come. Crowe was 61.