Luanne Austin says chemotherapy is not all it's cracked up to be. She doesn't mean it's cracked up to be something really great but is far from such a thing. She means it's cracked up to be something pretty horrible but is really not all that bad.

Austin says the day her doctor announced she would receive chemotherapy was almost as bad as the day she learned she had breast cancer. That's because she had heard nothing but bad things about the treatment. She expected to be laying in bed with her life in the balance -- nauseated, vomiting, sick -- as the "cure" killed her.

All expectations aside, Austin decided to tackle chemotherapy with a positive attitude. This may seem a daunting task -- turning a dreaded chemotherapy protocol into a not-so-bad experience -- but Austin mastered the task. And here are seven of her positive thoughts about a treatment that is not all it's cracked up to be.

• Austin talked to people who had traveled journeys similar to hers. What she learned is that many women continued working through treatment. Some suffered very few side effects. One woman even told Austin her experience was super. Austin was inspired by the positive women she tracked down. And now she inspires others.
  

• Austin did some reading. She learned that chemotherapy drugs target quickly-dividing cells, like cancer cells, red and white blood cells, blood platelets, and digestive tract cells. Learning about the process helped her realize chemotherapy was intended to make her well, not make her suffer.

• Austin learned how to support her body through treatment. She came to understand that the best chance of surviving breast cancer comes from conventional medicine -- surgery, chemotherapy, radiation -- but that alternative treatments can complement the traditional approach. She recommends the book Breast Cancer: Beyond Convention and considers her pursuit of a healthy diet, exercise, supplements, and a good night's sleep some of her most helpful chemotherapy add-ons.

• When Austin felt weak, tired, and just plain zoned out, she retreated to her bed with a good book and a cup of tea. Instead of considering it a setback, she called this downtime a good excuse to spend hours reading.

• Austin found relief from her nurses. They were terrific, she recalls, and professional and friendly and respectful too. Getting to know her medical crew -- and receiving hugs from them at the end of her treatment -- confirmed chemotherapy has some good points.

• For Austin, God -- who carried her through her whole journey -- was instrumental in her positive outlook. She felt lifted up and carried, she says.

• And then there's love -- pure and simple love from her husband and family members -- that allows her to conclude that chemotherapy is not so bad. "I'd have to say chemotherapy hasn't been all that bad," she says. "Not bad at all."
  

I just finished reading the words of Mark Raymond Clements -- and the words of his wife, Marianne, written when Mark was too ill to comment. I am overcome and overwhelmed with emotion because each string of sentences filling the pages of the Clements family homepage has touched me, inspired me, and saddened me all at the same time.

Clements was diagnosed in October 2005 with cholangiocarcinoma, a rare cancer of the bile duct normally found in people in their 70s.

"There is no known cure," writes Clements. "It does not respond well to chemotherapy. It is fast moving."

And fast moving it was. Surgery -- rarely a good option for this cancer -- was attempted but without success.

"After they opened him up, they discovered that the cancer had just spread too far," Marianne writes. "They closed him back up."

Chemotherapy came next and while there were some hopeful moments -- "overall distribution of the disease has decreased" -- the overwhelming course of Clement's disease continued on a fast track. And by June 2006, Clements realized, "the cruel reality of CANCER hits like a brick wall," when a CT scan revealed the presence of as many as 20 new tumors in his liver.

The Clements family never abandoned hope and were steadfast in their faith as cancer continued to dominate their lives. In October -- one year after diagnosis -- when Marianne believed doctors were sending a let's make you as comfortable as we can message, the family began pursuing alternative methods. But by December, when it had become clear treatment of any kind would no longer help, Mark Clements was welcomed by the loving arms of hospice -- where he remained until he passed away on January, 19, 2007. He was 40 years old.

On the very day of her husband's death, Marianne writes, "I know I am not alone in feeling complete anguish at this time. I know it will lessen over time. I know I will not understand 'why' until I'm with him again, but what I do know is that Mark loved me. He loved his children. He loved his family and friends. He will be waiting for me with our loving Father in Heaven. And we will be together again. Our Father in Heaven is aware of our pain and will comfort us still as he has through this past year."

And these are just some of the words that have has touched me, inspired me, and saddened me all at the same time.

Lance Armstrong, champion of both cycling and cancer, wrote a commentary recently for CNN. His message was loud and clear -- he is losing patience with Washington politicians set on cutting funds for cancer research -- and while his words have not yet spurred positive change for cancer initiatives, they have inspired cancer survivors from all over the world who are responding with their own commentaries on sickness and survival.

The outpouring of sentiment inspired by Armstrong's commentary is overwhelming. Today, I offer just a glimpse into what survivors -- seven of them -- are expressing in the spirited e-mails they are sending to CNN.

Jerry Kelly of Birmingham, Alabama
My dad died of cancer 10 years ago, almost the same time Lance was diagnosed and subsequently founded the Lance Armstrong Foundation. My wife and I met Lance a few years later after I was diagnosed and we went to Austin for the LAF Ride for the Roses (fundraising bike ride). Lance's story had been very inspirational when I found it just minutes after my diagnosis with testicular cancer. What we didn't realize was how much inspiration we would get from other survivors and caregivers as we shared stories. Lance also spoke of something his doctor told him about, the Obligation of the Cured. The important thing to remember is that we can all make a difference if we are willing to give the effort. You don't have to win the Tour de France to join the LiveStrong Army!

Brian D. of Austin, Texas
The costs of this disease even for folks that have good insurance are well beyond reach. Depending on when you discover the cancer and what type of cancer you have, the out-of-pocket costs are far beyond the average person's ability to pay. This is of course assuming that you want to extend your quality of life and you want access to the latest advancements in cancer treatment. We are called society's "catastrophic cases." I am a 4½-year survivor of primary brain cancer. The technical name for my disease is anaplastic astrocytoma grade III. It is basically a slow-growing glioblastoma multiforme -- a death sentence. But I am young and up to the challenge. I am a card-carrying member of the LAF organization. I think what Lance is doing is great ... I think this article is great and I think our Congress should give more tax credits to those of us trying to live a normal life. Shame on them for not acting!

Anne Hawkins of Douglasville, Georgia
I was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 36. I am now 42½ and I have been diagnosed with breast cancer again -- a different type than the first time. I caught it in time thanks to my diligence in screening. However I am going through chemo for a second time in my life since it was an aggressive cancer and I'm so young. I am appalled that none of our politicians consider this a running topic! And the funding has been cut? That's unbelievable.

Marianna Costa, Melbourne, Australia
While I am writing from Australia, unfortunately the experiences of others sound all too familiar in our world. My wonderful father died in 2005 from cancer. The devastation to lives infested by cancer could never be measured in dollars. My conclusion is that cancer treatment is a global business. While I have faith in people of science to rid us from this world catastrophe, there is a global lack of resolve in governments, the corporate sector and medical institutions.

Casey Cronin of Austin, Texas
I'm 19 years old and I was diagnosed with cancer on December 3. I had my first surgery on December 7 and the second surgery on December 22. The pain I experienced was beyond belief. I had to accept the fact that I had cancer, go through with these surgeries, and sit in a hospital on Christmas. The second surgery was to remove my lymph nodes on my back and the nodes came back negative. Without cancer research I might not have been so lucky. I'm outraged that Congress has cut funding towards cancer research but continue to spend an arm and a leg on defense spending. I have a friend with Hodgkins lymphoma and unfortunately he doesn't have insurance. He's 23 and scraping by trying to make sure he might live past his 30s. Cancer is real threat to our health.

Betty Hoffmeister of Taylorville, Illinois
A year ago, October 2005, my daughter was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer of colon and liver. Not given much hope, but she is a fighter and a real sweet person. She takes chemo every other week on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and then is so sick she has to stay in bed for a day or two. But then she gets up and does what ever her little body will let her do. They just say keep doing what you are doing, but we are really worried. I would like for her to hear some real encouraging news soon before she loses the will to keep fighting. God is very good. But we need help.

Scott Joy of Portsmouth, New Hampshire
I'm a 3½-year testicular cancer survivor, and an administrator for an Internet support forum for other survivors. As the Lance Armstrong Foundation sagely notes, "Cancer may leave your body, but it never leaves your life." Dealing with cancer is life-changing. I was blind to it before it hit me, but now I see cancer -- and its effect on individuals, families, and society -- every day. I am forever grateful for the LIVESTRONG movement, and the passion and power of the community of cancer survivors.

Photographer Sharon Seligman's images are inspired by her personal journeys. She photographs people and birds and residential communities. She also captures the journeys of women enduring breast cancer. Her work speaks of the human experience. It speaks of her own experience. It speaks volumes.

Bearing Witness: Beyond the Surface of Breast Cancer is one of Seligman's portfolios. It's a photographic trip down memory lane, depicting self-portraits of courageous breast cancer survivors. Seligman tells her own story in words that border the left side of each portrait. Captions to the right of each black and white photograph offer a glimpse into the life of each woman whose being is displayed in raw form, for all to see, for all to contemplate, for all to appreciate.

And then in another portfolio, Seligman offers more photographs, more visions of the breast cancer experience.

Seligman aims to share the physical changes that come from breast cancer, to project the inner truths. Clearly, she is right on target.

I wrote this journal entry one year ago today. It's one of many entries I look back on to remember my journey with breast cancer, to capture the emotions that preceded the ones I have now, to chart just how far I have come since the day of my diagnosis. This is one of my happier journal entries -- written at a time when I was coming back to life after surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, when I was happy to be alive and in the company of two little boys whose simplicity inspired me.

My hats were once so important to me. Now they are scattered all over the floor of my bedroom closet. Once my daily camouflage for what cancer had done to me, my hats are now toys. Joey and Danny play with them and toss them around and wear them -- sometimes one at a time and sometimes they pile as many as they can on top of their little blond heads. The hats hold no real significance to them -- they are just playthings and while Joey can recall that I wore them at one time, the emotion wrapped up in the pale blue sleep cap and the black Nike ball cap and the yellow bucket hat is lost on him. I consider this a blessing -- that one day, he and Danny will likely have very little memory of this cancer adventure and that they may only remember what fun it was to wear so many hats.

On the anniversary of ABC News anchor Peter Jennings lung cancer death, Diane Sawyer spoke with medical editor Dr. Timothy Johnson about the impact Jennings death had for smokers. He indicated that while they do not have exact numbers, ABC was overwhelmed with telephone calls and emails from smokers asking for help or saying they were going to quit smoking as a result of the loss of Jennings.

There are 48 million smokers in the US, and 40 percent have tried to quit smoking. According to Dr. Johnson, only 20 percent of smokers who try to quit make use of aids available to help them -- patches, gum, antidepressants -- and only 5 percent of smokers are able to quit long term.

When Sawyer asked what message Dr. Johnson felt Jennings would want to convey to smokers, he said that Jennings would say, "keep trying, no matter how many times you try and fail to quit, keep trying -- each time you do is one more chance to become successful at quitting for good."

Dr. Johnson said Jennings, who admitted he was a heavy smoker for years before quitting, was a fighter. Dr. Johnson said Jennings would tell everyone who smokes to keep fighting to quit. ABC News has made the video of the interview, One Year Later: The Impact of Peter Jennings' Death, available online.

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer almost two years ago, my greatest fear was losing my hair. The fear was consuming, painful, over-the-top. That was long ago -- and I survived. I can look back now and realize that the panic about losing my hair was such a small-scale fear -- compared to what I fear now. Now I fear a recurrence of cancer. And it's a whole lot more disabling than a little worry about being bald.

I have a few techniques for settling my fears when they get out of control. Sometimes I take deep breaths. Sometimes I distract myself and occupy my mind with something more pleasant than anxiety -- like writing, exercising, playing with my little boys. And sometimes I read about others who have come before me and have handled the same distress I sometimes feel about cancer taking up residence in my body again. Mostly I learn from stories of other women who have survived breast cancer. And I learn that I can handle the fear, that I can handle cancer if it does come back. And the women I find most inspiring are those who have had a recurrence -- or two or three -- and who still manage to happily tackle the life they have in front of them. They give me hope that if a recurrence comes my way, I too can conquer it. And here are seven snippets of hope from the book Hope Lives! The After Breast Cancer Treatment Survival Handbook -- from women who keep on surviving breast cancer.

Angela Lemke was a young woman of 33 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and she went through a range of emotions in the challenges of cancer surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation. She speaks about feeling sick -- physically, mentally and emotionally. Lemke admits she felt shame and embarrassment at no longer fitting in and looking different after chemotherapy hair loss.

Lemke became frustrated at the hair loss alternatives available, and with her sister-in-law, designed the Inspired by You Ponytail Hat. She loved wearing it as it made her feel like her old self again. Lemke now offers individually created ponytail hats for other women experiencing chemotherapy hair loss. At the time of purchase, a woman can choose from over 288 variable combinations in creating a customized ponytail hat.

You can find out more about Lemke's ponytail hats and create one of your own online at her website. At Inspired by You the motto is: Hope Matters ... Courage Counts!

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.

I've been wearing a breast cancer bracelet that jingles with charms in the shapes of hearts, with inspiring little messages like Go with your heart. One of the heart charms is a watch. My friend sent me this shortly after my breast cancer diagnosis. I love this bracelet. So I was sad the other day when the glass piece covering the watch somehow cracked and shattered. I only realized this when I tried to check the time and learned that my watch was not actually telling time anymore. So I went for my back-up -- another watch, exactly the same and also given to me as a gift. I replaced my old watch with the new watch and then days later, my new watch was not working. I think water got inside the glass and damaged the battery or the mechanisms -- or something. I'm sure I could repair the watches -- and I considered this -- but then it entered my mind that maybe this is a message that I am okay now without all my breast cancer gear.

I've always been a fan of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I've been touched, motivated, inspired and brought to tears by the short stories that lie between the covers of these books -- stories that dive into the depths of family and parenthood and work and teaching and death and religion and even cooking. They warm my heart and rejuvenate my spirit. It's been a while since I've read one of these books, though -- it's been a while since I've read any book lately -- and I think I need another serving of chicken soup. Chicken Soup for the Surviving Soul is exactly what I need.