Kristina Collins wrote on August 5 about the book Crazy Sexy Cancer. She bought it for a breast cancer survivor friend and called it "a practical (and funny) survival guide with insights of other young women with cancer." There's even a Crazy Sexy Cancer website, she wrote. And a documentary too. Here's some scoop on the documentary:

The upbeat documentary Crazy Sexy Cancer airs on Wednesday, August 29 at 9:00 PM on TLC. It's the story of Kris Carr, actress and photographer -- now author and filmmaker too -- who in 2003 at the age of 31 was diagnosed with a rare and incurable stage 4 cancer. Weeks after her diagnosis, she began documenting her journey. It's a crazy sexy cancer story. So tune in if you're up for a good dose of inspiration and humor. Check out the seven-minute movie trailer here (click on "trailer"). And take a peek at Carr's blog here.

"I just don't want to die," says Carr. "I will do whatever it takes, whatever it takes." Her documentary is proof of that.

It's been one year since I began writing for The Cancer Blog. According to statistics generated by this site, I've written 27,381 words and 793 posts. If you've been reading for this entire time, you surely know a lot about me. Not only do my posts reflect current news and issues, but they feature all sorts of personal stuff too. When considered together, my work here reflects just about every piece of my cancer journey, my inner most thoughts, my morals and values, my take on the world. But for those of you who haven't been reading for long, for those who have forgotten how I fit into the cancer puzzle, for those who want a recap, here's a rundown on me: Jacki Donaldson.

I was born and raised in Ohio but have also lived in Nevada, Virginia, and Florida -- my current home. My life always went pretty much according to plan -- I lived happily with my parents and one sister, faithfully attended school, went to college, got married, had two baby boys and a series of good jobs, and had just begun commenting to my family members about how lucky our family was not to have been affected by cancer. It seems just as I spoke this aloud, cancer arrived.

Last May, Lori Raimondo set off on a cross-country trek in search of one dollar for every day her mother Lorraine battled breast cancer.

She called her 10,344-mile excursion Road to a Cure. Her goal was to raise $9,490. She ended up with nearly $14,000. She succeeded. She exceeded. And she donated every cent to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

Raimondo's driving journey is long over. But our collective breast cancer journey is not. And so Raimondo, in honor of her mother on this Mother's Day, asks friends and family and strangers alike to continue contributing to the breast cancer cause so that the road to a cure may one day come to an end.

Raimondo is accepting donations on her website. She will continue to pass on everything she gathers to help fund breast cancer research.

My six-year-old Joey told his grandmother -- my mom -- the other day, "Nana, you are generous." It was thoughtful and touching and it brought a smile to her face. Later that night, Joey said the same to me. "Mom, you are generous," he proclaimed. And now I'm not sure if he really meant his sweet sentiments or if he was just practicing one of his new kindergarten vocabulary words. Regardless, it got me thinking about how generous his Nana really is.

My mom not only generously gave me life. She also saved my life -- not in the medical, scientific manner surgeons and oncologists saved my life but by the sheer force of love, support, comfort, and undying devotion that seems to involuntarily pour from the hearts of moms with sick children.

What some special young women have learned throughout their breast cancer journey.

What cancer has taught me:

• To see beauty in what before I would have thought to be ugly.
• That there are total strangers that can lift your spirits.
• Who my true friends are.
• To forgive.
• To bring a sweater everywhere I go.
• Not to feel guilty about day-time naps.
• How to swallow five pills at a time.
• To ask every nurse, clerical person, lab tech, scan tech I encounter what their name is.
• To give more hugs and always tell the ones I love ..that I do love them..every time we speak.
• How to poop and throw up at the same time.
• To look at my kids more (when they are not looking).
• To realize that you can live with cancer.
• Meds are my friends.
• Hair grows really slowly.
• Some drugs make you fat.
• Life is really not fair, and bad things happen to really good people.
• To be more comfortable challenging authority, asking more questions and speaking my mind.
• That my husband absolutely adores me.
• To be more selfish and take time out for me.
• To go out and do the things that make me happy.
• Not to take life or people for granted.
• To see the little things in life that I never saw before.
• To love even more than before.
• Time is very valuable.
• Where to find a good wig in New York.
• That I'm not that afraid of needles.
• That I really am a 'glass half full' person.
• That I'm stronger than I ever expected.
• How nice it is to sit on the porch on a warm day.
• That being bald ain't so bad.
• That I can cope with more than I ever thought possible.
• That it is okay to need other people, okay to be vulnerable and okay to ask for help.

I'm sharing seven bits of wisdom this Sunday that are not my own. I am borrowing them from Pat McRee who has collected all sorts of survivor stories, affirmations, quotations, poetry, lyrics, and resources, has wrapped them with a bunch of hope and humor, and has packaged them in a box she calls Support to Go, The Unbook for the Journey through Breast Cancer.

McRee's colorful, lively box contains 80 cards. And on each card is some type of tip, idea, recipe, myth, truth, and essay that makes the breast cancer road easier to travel.

Live it. Learn it. Pass it on. That's what McRee says -- and exactly what she did when she stacked her deck of cards with such meaningful and magical material.

There is no way I could easily choose seven cards from my own box of support -- there's just too much good stuff, and it all deserves equal attention. So I drew seven random cards from the pile that sits before me, and this is what I got.

Queasy Made Easy
This card lists menu items targeted for the chemo tummy. A registered oncology nurse for 20 years, Betty Dozier shares what she has learned about what to eat -- clear, cool drinks, fruit juice, plain baked potatoes, Cold canned or fresh fruit, saltines, rice, toast, clear broths, sherbet, Popsicles -- and what not to eat -- gravy, sauces, potato chips, sour cream, heavy creamed soups.

Safety in Numbers
McRee doesn't put much stock in statistics and numbers generated by calculators that have nothing to do with real people. But she does believe in numbers when it comes to survival. On this card, she lists the names of genuine survivors with real numbers. She lists Shirley Weinman, a 20-year-survivor, Janice Johnston, an eight-year survivor, Linda Beebe, a 15-year survivor -- and so on.

No Smile Left Behind
McRee offers a prescription for play, an invitation to smile and laugh and rejoice in the face of cancer. "Cut eye holes in a paper bag and wear it to treatment," she says. "Tell 'em you just couldn't face another day." Another idea -- "Pass the word that everyone who enters the waiting room will get a Standing Ovation. They all deserve 'em just for showing up."

Fuzzy Logic
Check out this oh-so-true poem:

Too gray, too wavy, too doggone thick,
Smack in the front ... a big 'ol cowlick!
Split-ends and frizzies whenever it rained,
Now it's hard to believe I ever complained;
So, Lord, let's grow something! I'll nevermore whine ...
Gray, thick and wavy will suit me just fine.

Postcards
McRee provides a few postcards intended for mailing to surviving friends. One says, I hear you're patched, retreaded and approved for the road. Another says, U are not alone.

Hair Tomorrow
McRee offers a souvenir keeper for a lock of pre-chemo hair. Why not save it, says McRee, who shares that what grows back might be as different as your new life will be.

Buttoned-Up
Make your own buttons -- and wear them proudly. This card gives button wording ideas -- like Symmetry is so yesterday, Cancer: Been There, Beat That, and Stamp Out False Hopelessness.

Seven down -- 73 to go. I can't wait to read more.

Tears are streaming down my face. I can't stop them, and I'm not sure I want to. In a way, I want to feel the tragedy of life lost to cancer because it makes it all real. It makes it personal. It makes me realize the same tragedy could happen to me, my family members, my friends. It makes me want to make a difference even more now that I've seen the chilling pictures of a young woman dying of cervical cancer than moments earlier when I was moved mostly by my own breast cancer journey.

I first read about Heather Lyn Martin on the JANE magazine website, home of a beautifully-written story -- I Hate Tumors -- by Sara Lyle, long-time friend of Heather and senior editor for JANE, a publication for 20-something women. Sara's words powerfully depict the life and death of her friend, stricken with a disease she was sure she would beat. So sure, in fact, she asked Sara to help tell her success story.

Sadly, Heather never got to tell much. Because she died much too soon, at the age of 28. So Sara told the story through her own words and photos -- the same ones responsible for my tears -- and has just recently written a second essay, one year after her first story started reaching young people everywhere.

Sara wrote Why I Still Hate Tumors after inspiring many young women to open their eyes to the realities of a deadly disease. Her words serve to raise awareness about the dangers of cervical cancer -- and the HPV virus that causes it -- and to point women in the direction of resources critical for preventing and conquering the disease.

Sara, because of the death of her dear friend, is saving lives with her message. And she just may save yours.

To see all that Sara has to offer in the fight against cervical cancer and other hated tumors, visit her I Hate Tumors website.

I'm just waiting for the call -- the call that prompts my first visit with any number of newly-diagnosed breast cancer patients who want someone to lend an ear, a shoulder, and a few good tips for steering through a scary journey.

I am a new American Cancer Society Reach to Recovery volunteer, trained this past Saturday and ready to help others who are slipping into the shoes I started wearing two years ago. I was first a recipient of this program -- designed to match new breast cancer patients with veteran survivors through face-to-face visits -- and I know well the comfort that comes from the support of someone not so overwhelmed by cancer. So now it's my turn to offer the comfort. And I am oh so ready.

I am armed with literature, communication techniques, gift bags for my patients, and my own official volunteer pin. And while I am a bit anxious about how my first meeting will go, I learned on Saturday that my mere presence will be enough to calm the women whose lives I am about to touch.

There is no better vision for someone just diagnosed with breast cancer than a healthy, happy woman who happens to be surviving the same disease. And so it is hope that I will spread and my unspoken portrayal of life after cancer that will inspire these women. My words will be icing on the cake. It's me these women want to see. And it's these women I want to see as I begin to reach to recovery -- a recovery I suspect will largely be my own.

On February 4, Jennifer Ireland, a young wife and mother of two small daughters, took her last breath after a courageous battle with colon cancer. And today, February 14 -- a day reserved for all things love inspired -- you are invited to take part in a live Kansas City, Missouri benefit in honor of this lovely woman.

Join the live webcast of Film Clips -- a celebration of Mairtin de Cogain's soon-to-be-released American film The Wind That Shakes The Barley. Not only a celebration of film, this event will also feature the clipping of every strand of Mairtin de Cogain's hair -- and beard too. Attendees can claim a lock with a donation of $10 that will head straight to the Jennifer Ireland Fund. It all happens between the hours of 11:00 and 2:00 PM on this St. Valentine's Day.

There is so much more to say about Jennifer -- and she and her husband powerfully say it all on the blog they authored throughout their harrowing yet moving journey.

I guess I've just assumed that breast cancer organizations happily accept every donation they receive and joyfully funnel all charitable gifts into their noble endeavors. I mean, without money and research and programs and services and education, where would we be? We'd be uninformed and lagging behind the force of this disease instead of gaining momentum on its trail. That's where we'd be.

Now, I've never assumed these organizations accept money obtained through illegal measures. But I've also never assumed they'd turn away money just because it came from a group of women whose profession and means of fundraising might be considered unacceptable. I suppose I shouldn't make assumptions. Because I seem to be wrong on all accounts.

The Breast Cancer Society of Canada has officially rejected a donation from a group of Vancouver strippers because of the controversial nature of their fundraisers. Exotic Dancers For Cancer these women call themselves, and for four years they have been raising money in honor of another dancer who lost her battle with terminal cancer.

Trina Ricketts, founder of the exotic dancer website nakedtruth.ca and recipient of the letter rejecting the donation, is shocked that people consider this contribution dirty money. And she is so bothered by this unfair judgment that she has been contacting the media and outting the Breast Cancer Society of Canada's discrimination practices. Her protests are working.

In a supportive turn of events, Ricketts has been met with an overwhelmingly positive response -- and she now has several organizations willing to accept all donations she wishes to offer.

This story is not nearly as simple as presented here. It's so much more detailed and touching and moving when told by Ricketts herself -- who happens to share her inspiring journey right here.

CORRECTION: Trina Ricketts reports that she did not seek out the media to out the Breast Cancer Society of Canada.

"The decision to go public was not in the interests of outing the Breast Cancer Society of Canada, but rather to seek out charities that would be willing to accept our donations," she said.

My nose was buried in books just after my breast cancer diagnosis. I craved information and thought the pursuit and acquisition of it would somehow help me gain control over a seemingly uncontrollable disease.

For the most part, reading helps me. But sometimes, I read too much -- "Stop reading", my oncologist instructed me one day after I rambled off a bunch of worries I'd gathered from research -- and I've been known to get overwhelmed by statistics and numbers and theories and clinical jargon. When this happens, I usually find refuge in the personal stories of women living with breast cancer. Those who have weathered the cancer storm are often the real experts on cancer and know how to sift through the details, offering just what's important to all who follow.

For more than a decade, two-time breast cancer survivor Pat McRee searched for the perfect guide she could recommend for women she saw at the Flying Colors cancer resource and support center she directs.

"Too long," "Too detailed," "Overwhelming," "Just plain scary," were the responses she heard about the books she had found.

So she decided to think outside the book, to create her own support guide. An unbook is what she calls it. And it's not too long, too detailed, too overwhelming, or too scary.

Support to Go, The Unbook for the Journey through Breast Cancer is instead a compilation of survivor secrets, affirmations, inspiring quotations, poetry, song lyrics, attitude buttons, funny anecdotes, and referrals to expert resources in oncology, radiology, surgery, psychology, and complementary therapies.

McRee considers her book a support group of sorts, a place where survivors can turn their wild rides into unforgettable journeys.

I really like the book I've recently been writing about -- The Journey Through Cancer: Healing and Transforming the Whole Person. And I plan to read more. And I plan to write more. But I'm at a standstill.

I haven't been reading lately. And I haven't been writing lately. Because life is getting in the way. And in my book, that's a good thing.

There was a time when it would have caused me great stress to have committed myself to something -- like reading a book and writing about it -- and to have somehow fallen short on completing the task. Stress would have caused me to make time for my commitment, to push other important tasks aside, to fulfill my self-imposed deadlines.

But ever since cancer arrived in my life and jolted me into the realization that I only have the pleasure of one day at a time, I am better at capitalizing on what's most important in my world -- my family.

I have been busy playing beauty shop with my son. The boy who once shaved my head prior to my chemotherapy fallout is now twisting my dark brown curls into one-of-a-kind styles. I have been hanging Christmas lights with my sister who really has done all the work for me. I have been watching my two boys play in the yard and skateboard down the driveway and create concoctions of dirt, water, and weeds on the front porch. I have been shopping for holiday gifts and finding all sorts of great buys for myself too. I have been playing with my niece and dining out with my husband and writing posts and sitting by a fire at night. I have not been reading.

I am perfectly content with my hiatus from reading and writing. Because enjoying my moments, on my preferred terms, is surely part of recovering from a illness that threatened to take all my moments away.

I'm not sure when I'll get back to Dr. Jeremy Geffen's book, when I will continue reading about his Seven Levels of Healing. Because at the moment, I am too busy healing myself.

To read previous posts on the same topic, visit:
The Journey Through Cancer: State-Of-The-Art-Medical Care
The Journey Through Cancer: Beverly Is Every One of Us
The Journey Through Cancer: What Is The Purpose Of Medicine
The Journey Through Cancer: Introduction
Sunday Seven: Seven Levels of Healing on Cancer Journey

Stay tuned for an eventual post about:
The Journey Through Cancer: Level One -- Education and Information

Photographer Paula Lerner was diagnosed with breast cancer just after beginning work on Why We Walk: The Inspirational Journey Toward a Cure for Breast Cancer -- a book that captures through photographs the momentum of millions who year after year crowd America's streets and walk to conquer this disease.

A peek into this book is offered in the form of an online slide show, hosted by the Washington Post. Set to inspiring music and lyrics and lasting just three minutes and 59 seconds, this media presentation tells a story about a disease that strikes every three minutes and kills every 14 minutes.

Gripping photographs and sobering facts dominate this powerful piece. There are shots of women in pink wigs and pink tutus, children hosing off physically and emotionally drained walkers, women holding up photographs of lost loved ones -- one with a printed message that reads, Mom, we would walk forever to bring you back. May 14, 2004. There are smiles and cheers and tears. Every image packs an emotional punch.

The facts that appear throughout the slide show really stand out. They spell out in black and white some of the most important facts about breast cancer. And here they are -- all seven of them.

• 40,970 women and 460 men will die from breast cancer annually.

• Breast cancer is the most common cancer in African American women but ranks second to lung cancer in cause of cancer deaths.

• People over the age of 50 account for 77 percent of breast cancer cases.

• Breast cancer is most commonly diagnosed among Hispanic women and is the leading cause of cancer death among this group.

• Being overweight is linked to a higher risk of breast cancer, especially after menopause.

• Risk is increased by onset of menstruation before age 12, menopause after 50, first child after 30, or no children.

• Family history of breast cancer increases risk, especially if close relatives are diagnosed before the age of 50. A first-degree relative -- mother, sister, daughter -- with breast cancer approximately doubles the risk of breast cancer.

When I cry, I write. It makes me feel better to do something productive with my emotions, to channel my tears into something meaningful, to share my on-going journey with cancer so others may somehow benefit.

My tears started to flow after I dialed Amy's phone number this morning -- with the intention of speaking to her husband, almost two months after Amy died of breast cancer. No one answered my call, so voice mail picked up. And Amy's voice spoke to me in words something like you have reached the Wilson's. We cannot take your call. I wonder if her family has chosen to keep Amy's voice as the one that greets all callers. Or have they forgotten to change the message. Or are they stuck, unsure of what to do about this permanent reminder of Amy. Regardless, it must take time to deal with such as issue.

I left a message after Amy's voice became quiet. I recorded my own voice for her husband, told him I've been meaning to call but wanted to give him some time, that I hope he is doing alright, that he is in my thoughts every day. I wished him a Happy Thanksgiving and told him I'd try to call another day.

It was the end of my message that really choked me up -- the saying goodbye to a man I've never met who recently, suddenly had to say goodbye to his 35-year-old wife, the mother of his two small children. My goodbye was so much easier than his, and I think this is why I feel sad.

It made me happy to hear Amy's voice today, to remember her when she was alive and well and swearing she would not let cancer take her before Christmas. And it makes me happy that no one answered my call today -- because maybe it means everyone who lives in Amy's house is moving on with life, shocked as they may be that cancer took Amy weeks before Halloween.

I had no idea my one phone call would churn up so many tears. Thankfully, I have a tried and true method for dealing with them. Writing.

Every cancer patient should receive state-of-the-art medical care, says Dr. Jeremy Geffen in his book The Journey Through Cancer: Healing and Transforming the Whole Person. This medical care -- the foundation of every cancer treatment program -- should be administered by highly trained and qualified caregivers, under the meticulous supervision of an experienced oncologist.

Some don't believe this is the necessary foundation and consider the triad of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation both poisonous and barbaric. There is no doubt that people encounter pain, frustration, and toxicity with these therapies, according to Dr. Geffen. But he believes it's almost always a serious mistake to forgo these remedies in exchange for unproven alternative therapies.

There are demonstrated benefits of conventional medicine. And it is clear that with each day, treatments become safer, less toxic, and more effective than ever before. Some cancers -- like Hodgkin's disease, testicular cancer, and childhood leukemia -- were once considered deadly. Now, they can be cured. The anatomy and function of the eye, breast, larynx, esophagus, anus, rectum, and prostate can now be preserved, despite surgery and treatment. Advances in pain control have delivered considerable relief to patients experiencing discomfort with treatment. And there is reason to believe future progress against cancer will be even more dramatic -- with the advent of molecular and genetic technology, immunotherapy, targeted therapies, better diagnostic technologies, and more effective control of side effects.

Dr. Geffen stresses this -- conventional medicine is a must in the fight against cancer. But alternative and complementary therapies also have a place. And throughout his book, he details the Seven Levels of Healing that encompass both approaches.

He begins with Level One -- Education and Information. The starting place. The place common to all of us who receive diagnoses that are troubling and confusing and require a little investigation, a little research, a little explanation. The place I will describe in my next Journey Through Cancer post.

To read previous posts on the same topic, visit:
The Journey Through Cancer: Beverly Is Every One of Us
The Journey Through Cancer: What Is The Purpose Of Medicine
The Journey Through Cancer: Introduction
Sunday Seven: Seven Levels of Healing on Cancer Journey

Stay tuned for:
The Journey Through Cancer: Level One -- Education and Information