In response to the post Thought for the Day: These Small Hours, a song by Matchbox 20's Rob Thomas, reader Mary H. shares the name of another beautiful song by artist Sarah McLachlan. The song, Ordinary Miracle, is from the Charlotte's Web movie soundtrack and for Mary -- and me too -- it evokes an inspiring live-for-the-moment type of message.

Think about this:

It's not that usual when everything is beautiful
It's just another ordinary miracle today

The sky knows when its time to snow
You don't need to teach a seed to grow
It's just another ordinary miracle today

Life is like a gift they say
Wrapped up for you everyday
Open up and find a way
To give some of your own

Isn't it remarkable?
Like every time a raindrop falls
It's just another ordinary miracle today

Birds in winter have their fling
And always make it home by spring
It's just another ordinary miracle today

When you wake up everyday
Please don't throw your dreams away
Hold them close to your heart
Cause we are all a part
Of the ordinary miracle

Ordinary miracle
Do you want to see a miracle?

Its seems so exceptional
Things just work out after all
It's just another ordinary miracle today

The sun comes up and shines so bright
It disappears again at night
It's just another ordinary miracle today

It's just another ordinary miracle today

I don't watch music videos much anymore. My two little boys keep me too busy with all sorts of activities. Watching TV is not one of them.

This morning I had a moment to flip through the TV stations while my boys were splashing in puddles in the back yard. And I landed on the perfect station, playing the perfect song and video by Rob Thomas -- the guru behind the band Matchbox 20.

The music was uplifting. The words were inspiring. And as always, I interpreted my own version of reality from what I heard. Of course, it involved cancer.

What a perfect start to a rainy Florida day.

Think about this:

let it go,
let it roll right off your shoulder
don't you know
the hardest part is over
let it in,
let your clarity define you
in the end
we will only just remember how it feels

our lives are made
in these small hours
these little wonders,
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away,
but these small hours,
these small hours still remain

let it slide,
let your troubles fall behind you
let it shine
until you feel it all around you
and i don't mind
if it's me you need to turn to
we'll get by,
it's the heart that really matters in the end

our lives are made
in these small hours
these little wonders,
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away,
but these small hours,
these small hours still remain

all of my regret
will wash away some how
but i can not forget
the way i feel right now

in these small hours
these little wonders
these twists & turns of fate
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away but these small hours
these small hours, still remain,
still remain
these little wonders
these twists & turns of fate
time falls away
but these small hours
these little wonders still remain

Visit iTunes to listen to a 30-second clip of this song -- called Little Wonders, from the Meet The Robinson's movie soundtrack.

I once waited to see my oncologist -- in a room with nothing more than outdated magazines and my own wandering mind -- for four hours. I offered up 20 hours of my time for chemotherapy treatments and then spent five days -- two times, for a total of ten days -- waiting in the hospital for doctors to determine how to raise my blood counts and decrease my fever after the completion of a dose-dense chemotherapy attack. I traveled to and from radiation appointments for 35 days, spending an average of 90 minutes on each of these round-trip excursions. I reclined in an infusion chair every three weeks for 12 months so that a new breast cancer wonder drug could sail through my veins. I spent 52 hours in that chair. And I spent countless hours pouring out my emotions to a counselor, in an attempt to clear my mind of all that cancer took from me -- including my time.

These are just seven memories I have of time lost to cancer. There are others -- countless others -- but this should suffice as proof that among all the potential side effects that accompany cancer, loss of time is a guarantee.

According to the first study to put a price tag on the time patients spend battling cancer, it seems the disease steals at least $2.3 billion worth of time for patients in the first year of treatment alone.

Eleven of the most common cancers were included in the study. And it was determined that 368 hours are lost during the first year of treatment for ovarian cancer. For lung cancer, 272 hours are lost. For kidney cancer, 193 hours go down the drain. These hours don't take into account time spent in bed recovering from surgery or chemotherapy treatments. It accounts only for time engaged in actively receiving care -- it counts chemotherapy, radiation, blood tests, scans, surgery, check-ups, waiting to see doctors, and driving to and from appointments.

The study, published in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute, sheds new light on the burden of commitment -- the human cost of cancer.

"Cancer is more than the just the dollars and cents for the medicines and the treatments and the doctors. It's also the lost opportunities for the patients," said the American Cancer Society's Dr. Len Lichtenfeld, of this overlooked reality.

Lichtenfeld says this study demonstrates the need for early detection. The earlier cancer is caught, the less time patients spend in the system. It also shows the need for more targeted therapies that spare patients physical side effects and allow them opportunities for taking pills at home instead of receiving treatment in clinics.

I would love to have back the time I spent treating and recovering from cancer. But I'm not heartbroken over my lost time. Because it bought me something in the end -- more time.

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.

Fast food and junk food snacks are not good for health. Smoking is not good for health. Little sleep and non-existent periods of relaxation are not good for health. Lack of exercise and weight gain from stress eating are not good for health. But according to researchers, women who work long hours are prone to some or all these habits, and that is not a good thing for their health. Smoking, damage to the immune system due to unrelenting levels of stress, lack of exercise and weight gain all increase cancer risks.

Leeds University conducted a study that showed women typically respond to the stress of working long hours by engaging in negative habits that are detrimental to their immediate and long-term health. According to researchers, the reaction to stress can manifest in choosing unhealthy high fat and high sugar snacks before choosing healthier food.

The study compared how men and women respond to stress, and if there was a difference. Some experts stated that men are less likely to be affected by working long hours because they are not expected to multi-task when they get home from work in the same way women are expected to do. Researchers said most women agree to their take on the matter.

Knowing that some women alleviate stress in unhealthy ways, gives women an opportunity to step back and assess how they might choose better strategies for dealing with stress -- or in minimizing some of the causes of stress in their life. Aside from these research findings, I think both men and women in modern society are under enormous daily stress and we all need to step back and evaluate how much of our health we are willing to compromise.

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.

Joey has a hard time staying in bed when we put him down for the night. When we ask him why he continually gets up, he tells us that he wants to be with us -- mommy and daddy --  and that he wants to watch TV and that he's just not tired. He is five years old. And he will try anything to coax us into allowing him to stay up just a little bit longer. Lately, he's been asking serious questions he knows will take some time to answer -- like how exactly does a light bulb work? And how does lightening get in the air? And how do you build a house? Last night, his questions followed a medical path -- a cancer path really.