A German biotech company has announced positive results from a genetically engineered herpes virus that is designed to kill cancer cells. It not only kills the cancer cells but leaves healthy tissue unharmed. Results from clinical trials has showed promise.

Being injected with a virus might seem strange but researchers believe that viruses could one day become a valuable addition to conventional cancer treatments.

The results have shown in animal testing and limited human testing the ability to kill colorectal and liver cancer cells.

She says it's all that really matters to her -- the time she spends with family. It comes before work and commitments and responsibilities. It shapes her minutes, her hours, her days. It brings her joy and laughter and sometimes tears. It propels her, comforts her, inspires her. And it shows -- in everything she does. And she does a lot. But most important, especially in light of today -- Grandparent's Day -- is what she does for her grandchildren who are too small to truly express what's in their little hearts but will surely one day shout from rooftops with joy about this woman who wraps them in love every day. But for now, these three children -- ages five, three, and almost two -- mostly just shout happily about all sorts of things that don't always make a lot of sense. So today, I will speak for them. I will say thank you to their Nana -- my mom -- who watches her granddaughter every day, picks up her grandson from kindergarten two times per week, takes all three kids on swimming adventures, babysits on a moment's notice, and has twice this year sat with her daughters for hours in emergency rooms with sick babies. And in addition to the fact that she was completely by my side during my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment, she was also somehow caring for my children -- her grandsons.

If my mom wasn't sitting with me during chemotherapy infusions, she was watching my boys so my husband could be with me. If she wasn't sitting with me in the hospital each time I was admitted with neutropenia, she was at home with my boys so my husband could sit with me. And when my husband had to rush me to the hospital with dangerous fevers, she arrived in the middle of the night, slept in my bed, and greeted my babies when they woke. She entertained my boys every day for seven weeks while I hauled myself to and from radiation appointments. During chemo, she took my kids when I was tired, foggy, incoherent and needed desperately to sleep. She did it all -- tirelessly, effortlessly, constantly.

And so on this Grandparent's Day, I realize that I owe this grandma for saving my life. By caring for the two most important people in my world, she allowed me to fight for my life -- and to come back to life. And there seems nothing really appropriate I can share with her for this gift she has given me. But I can say thank you. And one day, when they can eloquently express their own feelings, I know Jordan and Joey and Danny will all let their Nana know just how important she is. All day. Every day.

Kids can be so positive and encouraging, even in the face of sickness. Now today my kids have just a simple sickness -- nothing life-threatening -- that I'm sure will pass in a day or so. They are throwing up every content of their little tummies -- even sips of water -- and they are pale and lethargic and run-down. But still, they have hope for a brighter tomorrow. This morning, five-year-old Joey said to me while resting in my bed and just after he threw up , "this is just the good getting rid of the bad." He went on to explain how the good in our bodies knows when to push the bad out. And this is what is happening to him today, he said. He is throwing up the bad so the good can take over. Simple. Easy. Makes sense.

I never saw my own sickness like this. Instead of visualizing chemotherapy as a good agent that kills bad cells, I was repulsed by the horrific liquids that poisoned my body. I knew of people who were able to turn chemotherapy into a Pac-Man game -- with Pac Man chomping away at the cancer cells and leaving nothing but healthy cells to thrive. And I knew people who were relieved to feel sick because it meant the chemotherapy was working. I never saw it like this -- although I do know that chemotherapy may have saved me from a life with cancer. I was discouraged by chemotherapy. I had a negative attitude about it, and I had to really gear up for all of my infusions. I still -- more than one year later -- cannot eat anything I ate on my chemo days. The mere thought of these foods makes me feel ill.

A pediatrician friend of mine told me that kids with cancer tend to be positive. There are a few old souls, she said, but for the most part, they continue to tackle life with spirit and adventure and simplicity. Like my boys today who are peacefully napping at the moment so everything good in their bodies can come back with a vengeance.

I can't decide what to do about my port now that my breast cancer treatment is over. It's been an on-going internal battle. I don't know whether I should leave it in place -- tunneled underneath the skin on my collarbone where it is available and accessible should I ever need further infusions of cancer-fighting drugs -- or whether I should have it removed since there is no real purpose for it right now. There is the issue of superstition and safety -- leaving it right where it is allows for easy use if cancer returns and prevents another surgery to implant a new one. But there is also the issue of moving on -- and removing it because I don't need it, because I may never need it. One doctor told me recently that it should come out because if it remains in my body, I risk infection. And anything foreign in my body for an extended period of time is not completely safe. But a cancer survivor told me that she had hers removed immediately after treatment and had to get a new one because her cancer recurred three months later.

I am accustomed to wrestling matches like this one -- like my stand-off between treatment with Taxol or without Taxol, between anti-depressant or no anti-depressant, between vegan diets and traditional diets. Sometimes I can make a good call. Sometimes I just can't decide. Like right now.