I just received my University of Florida alumni magazine and right smack in the middle of the publication is a story about cancer. The gist of the article is that there's an explosion of effort and activity in cancer research at this institution -- much like all over the nation -- and featured are all sorts of new cancer techniques and strategies and treatments. But one thing in particular stood out to me. What I read -- in the space of just two short sentences -- jumped off the page and really made me think.

This one thing is what I am about to share, and I'm calling it my Thought for the Day. It's a great morsel of information -- short, sweet, easy to digest, and perfectly powerful -- and so I invite you to read on, let this string of words sink into your mind, think about it over the course of the day, and then determine how you might use it in your own life. And then come back tomorrow, when another Thought for the Day will await you.

Think about this:

More than half of all cancer deaths can be prevented by maintaining a healthy lifestyle. Poor nutrition, obesity, physical inactivity, and cigarette smoking together account for 63 percent of all cancer deaths.

A few early mornings ago, when my eyes were blurry with sleep and I was holding my three-year-old son, I walked right into the corner of a door. I slammed my little toe -- hard -- and I'm pretty sure it's broken. It's red and swollen. It hurts and throbs. It barely fits in a shoe. And the pedicure I got the other day -- a not-so-wise choice, I know -- really caused my baby toe a lot of discomfort.

Yesterday, while wearing cute little sandals -- to show off my french pedicure, of course -- I followed my husband and two little boys on an outdoor adventure down a steep cliff. Our destination was a stream -- the boys love water -- and while I didn't tumble and fall down the hill, I did gain a lot of momentum on my descent and ended up running full force toward the stream -- directly into a boulder of a rock, where my other little baby toe scraped right across a jagged edge. A chunk of skin hung off my toe, blood seeped out, and I hopped around on my other foot -- with its own possibly broken toe -- while the pain eased up a bit. And then I sat down and contemplated my recent toe misfortune.

My injured toes, along with an itchy, irritating skin rash I suspect is due to an allergy of some sort, have caused me some amount of stress. But it's not major, it's not debilitating, and it's doesn't even compare to the stress of cancer.

I keep playing this cancer comparison over in my head -- minor pain vs. major pain, minor stress vs. major stress. Others in my life are doing the same. My fitness trainer, who has been on crutches for weeks and weeks with a broken foot, told me when she feels down about her condition, she reminds herself, it's not cancer.

Life has become a matter of perspective for me like never before. Cancer set the bar. And now all other life issues go up against this bar -- and any that are not a matter of life and death I realize are just not so bad.

So I have two sore toes. And itchy skin. But I don't have cancer -- anymore -- and so life is just fine.

Kim Taylor is a 45-year-old single mother who lives in Suwannee County, Florida and is proud to have successfully raised one daughter -- a graduate of the University of Florida. Kim enjoys outdoor activities like camping as well as sewing, crafting, and carpentry projects. She is most at peace spending time with her family, working as a youth volunteer -- and raising awareness for breast cancer. It's a interest she acquired just two years ago, compliments of a personal encounter with the disease that has taught her to let the little things go, to appreciate every sunrise, to make every moment matter.

When we memorialize someone at the time of death, we often refer to the date of birth and the date of death. These numbers tell us something -- like the age of the person -- but they don't say much about the life that fills the gap between start date and end date. They don't tell of the life that was surely full of ups and downs and victories and struggles. And happiness and joy and sadness and sorrow. And family and friends and jobs and hobbies. They don't do justice to the true stuff of life that is so much more important than numbers. But there is something important about these two sets of numbers -- something that when really examined, tells the full story. This important something -- the dash.

The dash that separates these static numbers is what tells the story of life. So consider your own dash when contemplating life, while determining how to spend your time and fill your days. Make your dash matter. Make it worthwhile. Make it something that people will talk about long after your own numbers become a matter of permanent record. And when you memorialize loved ones in the future, think about what their dashes mean. Talk about them, remember them, honor them. And pass on this link -- www.thedashmovie.com -- so others will consider the meaning that flows from each simple dash.

George W. Bush declared five years ago that no federal funding would be allocated for embryonic stem cell research. He has not changed his mind -- and two weeks ago vetoed a bill that would allow this research. He says that supporting the bill would be supporting the taking of innocent human life in order to find medical benefits for others. For Bush, it crosses a moral boundary. But most Americans support stem cell research and would like to see the Bush White House loosen its restrictions, says Kathy Hudson, director of the Genetics and Public Policy Center at Johns Hopkins University in Washington. Until this happens, though, scientists and researchers find themselves in an ethically-charged minefield, operating carefully and responsibly and ethically.

Dr. Peter Dirks -- a neurosurgeon specializing in childhood brain cancer at Toronto's Hospital for Sick Children who has been making headlines around the world for isolating brain cancer stem cells two years ago -- is one person weighing in on controversial issue of stem cell research. Dirks does not use embryonic stem cells but instead uses cells from tumors removed during brain surgery that would otherwise be discarded. But he says embryonic stem cell research is critical for his success. It's what has led to the findings that exist today -- and it holds the clues for further discovery. It's a delicate matter, though, regardless of the politics surrounding the issue. Before he harvests stem cells from any patient's brain tumor, for example, Dirks asks parents to sign a three and a half-page consent form. And that's just the beginning.

Federally-funded embryonic stem cell research does not yet have its beginning here in the United States. Maybe the tides will change. Maybe we will see progress. Maybe we won't. Only time will tell.

One of the first books I read after my breast cancer diagnosis was issued in hardback in 1986 -- 20 years ago -- and then was published again and reissued and reprinted in 1990, 1998, and 2002.While the cover has changed and perhaps some wording too, the message in this book -- Love, Medicine, & Miracles by Bernie S. Siegel, M.D. -- remains unchanged.  And it is inside the covers of this book that I keep learning that I have the capacity and power to become an exceptional patient -- despite the fact that I've been faced with a life-shattering diagnosis of cancer.