Living Beyond Breast Cancer (LBBC) -- a nonprofit organization dedicated to empowering all women affected by breast cancer to live as long as possible with the best quality of life -- recently began offering a new resource for breast cancer survivors, for both the newly diagnosed and those with metastatic disease.

"The first few weeks after diagnosis can be extremely difficult emotionally, and women with advanced disease often do not get the support and resources they need," said Jean Sachs, LBBC executive director. "We want to give them an understanding of their choices to help them make informed decisions regarding their physical and emotional health."

This understanding comes in the form of a 28-page brochure -- What to expect . . . today, tomorrow and beyond: Steps for coping with the medical, emotional and practical concerns of breast cancer -- available free on the Internet or by request. This guide, a road map, addresses topics such as coping with the news of a new diagnosis, telling family and friends, understanding pathology reports, choosing a medical team, asking for help, and finding support.

LBBC offers multiple addidtional resources -- including specialized navigation tools on its website that lead to a wealth of information. Visitors can Learn More about LBBC. They can Stay Informed through news, message boards, and other resources. They can Participate in events and programs. And they can Support LBBC through volunteer efforts and financial donations.

LBBC was founded in 1991 by a radiation oncologist who focused exclusively on meeting the needs of women post-treatment. She ran the organization out of the third floor of her home using volunteers. Few resources existed for women affected by breast cancer at the time, and so she tried to fill the void. In 1986, an executive director came on board, increased the LBBC budget from $100,000 to $1.8 million per year, expanded all programs and services, and worked to secure LBBC as a solid, dependable resource for all women, of all stages of breast cancer and in all phases of treatment and recovery. And now, in 2006, that is exactly what it is.

A few days ago, notification of an e-mail arrived in my inbox. It popped up right in front of me, with the sender's name -- Amy Wilson -- glaring in black print right before my eyes. Amy is my friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer just after my own diagnosis. We e-mailed frequently about our cancer hopes and fears and so it was never before odd that a message would travel from her computer in Ohio to mine in Florida. But on the day this one e-mail arrived, it was odd -- because Amy died two weeks ago, after a 15-month battle with the disease we both vowed to conquer.

The e-mail was not from Amy. It was from her husband, Paul. And it was as comforting to hear from him as it was odd to see Amy's name flash in front of me. You see, I have wanted to call Paul, e-mail Paul, send a card to Paul -- something. I have wanted to reach out in some way, even though I have never met the man who thought he would spend the rest of his life raising his two children with Amy. But I never could figure out what I would write or say or send. I have been afraid that it would be hard for him to talk about Amy's death. I've been afraid that it would be hard for me to talk about her death. So I have waited, hoping the passage of time would help prepare me for some sort of action. And in the end, time was not necessary. Because Paul reached out to me. And this is what he wrote in the e-mail he sent from Amy's mailbox.


And now I can contact Paul, because he has opened the door. He -- the one suffering the greatest loss -- has comforted me. And now I need to thank him.

It's hard to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me during my bad days with cancer. I could call them consuming and crushing and sickening and frightening and crippling and still not completely cover all the bases. It's much easier to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me on my good days with cancer. I felt -- and still mostly feel this way -- happy and spunky and motivated and invigorated and fulfilled. And I felt loved -- because most of my bad days were turned around by the love of others. It was like clockwork. When I needed it most, a surprise awaited me in my mailbox or my inbox or on on the other side of my front door or on my front porch. These surprises strengthened me on my bad days -- and sometimes beyond the bad days. They still help me really -- because my memory of how they saved me from days of despair continues to fuel my good days. And here are seven of my special surprises.