As Skin Cancer Awareness Month winds down, I find myself hoping you have learned a thing or two about a disease that is far more common than we tend to believe, a diseases that in some cases is downright deadly.

The month of May will soon drift away. Skin cancer will not -- unless of course we make huge, swift strides in prevention. Until this happens, though, the best we can do is be vigilant about early detection. I have an idea. Well, an idea I'm borrowing from The Archives of Dermatology.

The idea: photography. Studies show patients who use photographs of their own skin for reference are better able to detect skin changes while conducting self-examinations.

We're still basking in the hot sun, bronzing our bodies in tanning beds, and playing outdoors without slathering on the sunscreen. What will it take, I wonder, for our society to catch on, to take real steps toward preventing skin cancer?

It seems education isn't enough. Most of us know by now all it takes is one bad sunburn to increase our risk of skin cancer, yet we continue to collect burn after burn after burn. Perhaps like all habit-forming behaviors -- think smoking -- it takes something tragic in our lives to inspire change. When someone we know gets lung cancer after a lifetime of smoking or someone we know develops melanoma after years of sunbathing, maybe we get the hint. Maybe

Now, I know you don't personally know this young woman -- she calls herself Miss Melanoma -- but I suggest you read her story. And I recommend you take what happened to her -- she lost part of her foot to melanoma and is currently battling a spread of the disease -- and allow it to really sink in, allow it to motivate you to take cover from the sun, before something like this happens to you. Because it can.

My hair is not so short, not so dark, not so curly anymore. And the shock of what sprouted from my head following chemotherapy is not so startling anymore. I guess it's a combination of my getting accustomed to my new look and the fact that lately, my hair is a changin' -- once again -- and this has me somewhat numbed to all things hair-raising in my life.

I was born with straight, blond hair. And I wore these locks on my head for 34 years. Until cancer came a knockin', chemotherapy came a drippin', and my hair went a tumblin'. Bald brought quite an adjustment. And so did the stuff that replaced my pre-chemo hair.

For almost two years now, I have been peering in the mirror at short, brown, curly hair. It took some time, but I grew to like my new look. And now, just as I am feeling OK about my changed appearance, my hair is taking another turn.

Naturally, my hair is longer. That's what happens when chemotherapy becomes a thing of the past. So this is not so surprising. But as my hair grows and gets heavier, my curls are transforming into waves. And I wonder if my curls will continue to disappear as my hair continues to grow. Will my hair be straight again one of these days?

With each passing day, my hair also gets lighter as it slowly fades from dark brown to light brown with a tint of red and a hint of blond. Will my hair be blond again one of the days?

Someone once told me that cancer is temporary. Someone else told me this is not true -- there's nothing temporary about the way cancer changes a life forever. I think I agree. Because as I study my hair, I realize that all of its temporary phases are really just a sign of the permanence cancer has left branded on my body and soul.

Women undergoing radiation treatment for breast cancer are marked with blue tattoos on their chest to show technicians where the radiation beam needs to be pointed. The blue tattoos are permanent, although after treatment a woman can have them removed.

Sheryl Crow, diagnosed with breast cancer last spring, who went through radiation treatment and has the blue tattoo, said, "I've kept my tattoo because it is a reminder for me. It's a reminder of that time. It's a reminder of how I want to look at my life. I want to remember. I don't want it to fade on me so fast."

Christy Schwan, who was diagnosed with breast cancer four years ago and received the blue tattooing while undergoing radiation treatment, wrote a book called The Blue Tattoo Club. According to Schwan, in the spirit of sisterhood of breast cancer survivors, all women with the blue tattoos are members of the club. With her book, she wants to reach out and make sure no woman ever feels alone in her breast cancer journey.

Each cancer survivor is different. Some embrace cancer survivorship as a way to make the lives of others facing similar challenges and the world in general a better place. They reach out to comfort and to offer hope. Others simply want to forget as fast as possible the cancer experience. There is no one right way to be a cancer survivor, but I admire people like Crow and Schwan who do not walk away, who stick around, who fight as fierce warriors and gentle healers in this battle against cancer. It is, as Lance Armstrong said, the obligation of the cured for cancer survivors until a cure is found for all.

Diagnosed with breast cancer in 2002, Christy Schwan, a wife, mother, grandmother, daughter, sister, friend, and a sister in spirit in the sisterhood of breast cancer survivors said, "My family and friends are the center of my life and they all agree that someday my tombstone will be engraved -- don't have too much fun without me!" Schwan invites you to join her in The Blue Tattoo Club. According to Schwan, she hopes, like wildflower seeds blowing in the wind, her book will pass from woman to woman so that no woman will ever feel alone in her journey.

The Blue Tattoo Club is a book she wished she had found when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer. The blue tattoo is the permanent mark made on a woman's chest when she is going through radiation cancer treatments. These marks are where they will direct the radiation. If you have these marks, you are part of The Blue Tattoo Club. The Blue Tattoo Club book is a collection of personal stories from breast cancer survivors as they made their journey through breast cancer diagnosis, treatments and beyond.