I have known my friend Claire for years (she asked that her last name not be used). So, I remember the shock I felt three years ago when I found out that she had breast cancer. Malignant breast cancer, we whispered to ourselves. Claire had been teaching English for Dole Fruit in Honduras. She came home that summer, and she never went back, even though she had another year left in her contract. Even though we have talked about her experiences over the years, we had never done so formally before she agreed to talk to me for this Survivor Spotlight. She came over and I poured her coffee (black) and we went out back to my studio/office to chat.

How did you find out you had breast cancer?

I went in for a routine mammogram. I had been having mammograms for about the past ten years or so. But I missed the previous year! So, after I found out that I had cancer, I was mortified that I had forgotten the previous year. But actually, I had a benign cyst years earlier, when I was younger and hadn't gone through as much. That was actually much scarier.

How did you find out it was malignant?

Needle biopsy. But I had warning -- the radiologist was pretty sure it was bad, so he gave me warning. The biopsy was just to make sure.

It's an unsettling journey -- the pursuit of the five-year cancer survival mark. Some say each year of cancer survival makes the future more of a sure thing. And so surviving five years -- the traditional landmark of real remission -- is a big accomplishment. But then there's the perspective of numbers that for me say I have a 93 percent chance of surviving breast cancer for five years. After that, though, there's no telling what will happen. So I am eagerly awaiting the moment when I cross the five-year finish line as I anxiously realize this very same moment may also signal a more dismal outlook.

The paradox hit me straight in the face yesterday as I was waiting for my radiation oncologist to give me another six-month all clear announcement. I was reading the January/February 2007 issue of Coping magazine while I waited. And as I flipped through the pages, I landed right at these words:

Studies show that half of all breast cancer recurrences occur after completion of five years of standard tamoxifen therapy. Additionally, a third of women with estrogen receptor-positive early breast cancer experience a recurrence, and more of half of these recurrences occur more than five years after surgery.

Now this doesn't apply directly to me. My breast cancer was estrogen receptor-negative which makes me a non-candidate for tamoxifen. And this is what scares me. My tumor was aggressive and while my treatment was also aggressive, I don't get the extra five-year protection from hormone therapy. If women taking this drug can have recurrences after completing the therapy, I wonder what's in store for me having not had it.

Maybe I'm making comparisons that don't amount to any real conclusions. Perhaps my type of disease allows for a more secure future. Or perhaps it places me on shaky ground. I don't know for sure. And I don't think I'll dive any deeper into research than I already have. Instead, I will live for today -- while enjoying the announcement my oncologist shared with me yesterday. All clear!

Most current media reports have us believing that incidences of cancer are at epidemic proportions. What isn't making headlines is the fact that for many cancers, incidences of the disease are on the decline. This is what the American Council on Science and Health states as a result of a new report released from the North American Association of Central Cancer Registries, the American Cancer Society, and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. If only reports like this were splashed all over our newspapers and television screens -- instead of grim reports of increasing diagnoses and deaths -- then maybe the outlook on cancer would be a bit more hopeful.

Rates of colorectal cancer, uterine cancer, stomach cancer, and cervical cancer have all been declining for two years. Drops in cases are mostly attributed to lower rates of smoking, better screening, and better treatments. For men, lung cancer death rates have also fallen.

So not all incidences of all cancers have dropped -- but some have. And this should at least keep us hoping, dreaming, wishing for a day when cancer is not even loosely associated with the word epidemic. And it should surely be cause for at least some media coverage.

In the moment of despair, the cliche time heals all wounds may seem anything but comforting. But that's because it's true. It takes time to heal and we are not in the right frame of mind just as something unfortunate has happened to accept -- or believe -- this advice that might come flowing from a well-wisher's lips. It's popular wisdom. It's commonly offered as comfort. It's easy to spit out. And while our wounds do not exactly fade with the passage of time, we are able to put a more positive spin on them. But it's tough to appreciate this until the unfortunate moment is long gone.

According to a recent study -- summarized in the September 2006 Ladies Home Journal magazine -- memories of distressing events, like the death of a loved one, don't go away but they do gradually get colored by more hopeful emotions. As time passes, we tend to remember strongly emotional experiences as positive even if they were once harrowing. "People are resilient," says one researcher. "We come to terms with our experiences in as positive a way as we can." So we may eventually see the death of a friend as something that made us stronger, something that reminds us to treasure our friendships. Our ability to find such meaning in the saddest of times helps transform it into a valuable experience -- and not just a sad one.

And this is exactly how I feel about having had cancer. No one could have convinced me at the time of my diagnosis that time would heal my wounds. I wasn't even sure how much time I had left on this planet. I was panic-stricken and frightened and tended to defeat conventional wisdom. But now that two years worth of time has passed me by and I am pretty certain I will continue surviving for a long time, I realize time is responsible for my positive outlook. Time did not completely heal my wounds -- I still have days when my wounds are raw -- but it surely bandaged them. And so I do believe time heals all wounds -- in a way -- and I am thankful for each moment of time I have to marvel at this truth.

Every time I hear about someone who has died from cancer, it knocks me down a notch. It makes me sad for the person, for the family, for the friends, for me -- because I know I am not guaranteed survival from cancer and while I mostly live each day as if I am immune to this tragic outcome, the knowledge that people do really die from this disease that I am trying to beat is overwhelmingly sobering. And what shakes me most is the fact that these people who die from cancer must have had the same outlook as me at some point in their journey -- the outlook of promise and hope and continued survival. And then something happens that jolts this hope from their grasp. It could happen to me -- and my family and my friends. And that scares me.

Sometime last year, my husband told me about a woman in one of his graduate classes whose husband was fighting melanoma that had spread to his brain. He was in year number eight of constant treatment -- both traditional and alternative -- and with each day, his hope for survival was fading. His wife and my husband talked at times about his journey -- and they talked about my journey with breast cancer. And after the class ended, both spouses periodically checked on each other. Today, my husband asked this woman in an e-mail about her husband. She replied and shared that he died last October. She wrote that he could not fight any longer -- that the last chemotherapy he tried to endure was too hard on him. He died with dignity. And she is proud of him. And I can't stop crying.

My tears will dry. And sadness will drift from my every thought. And I will return to my usual enthusiastic approach to surviving my own dreaded disease. But in the back of my mind, where I have saved every sad story about cancer and death, my sorrow will linger. And I suppose it should. So I can keep my sights on the possibility that surrounds me -- death -- and so I can continue living with every fiber of my being. Because living is not a guarantee. Ever.

I have tried to exercise most of my adult life -- at times because I felt obligated to participate in what I knew was good for me and at times to justify eating my favorite foods while maintaining an appropriate weight and at times because I wanted to actually have a toned, healthy body.

At this exact time in my life, I exercise with all of these motivations in mind -- plus a few more. I like to sweat and know I am accomplishing a physical feat. I like the mental release I get when I push my body to perform. I like the time to myself, the loud music I hear on my MP3 player, and the results I see from a little bit of hard work. And lately -- as a result of a new weight training program -- I know I am benefiting my body more than ever before.

The following are just seven of the many gifts that come from weight training. Gifts that will make me a happier, healthier cancer survivor.

Noticeable physical results -- Mostly, walking and occasional jogging have been my methods of exercise. And I've seen results from this type of workout -- leaner legs, more defined calf muscles, and the knowledge that I am increasing my cardiovascular health, as confirmed by the technician who performed an ultrasound on my heart in preparation for my Herceptin treatment for breast cancer. He told me he could tell I exercised regularly because of my low resting heart rate. But until I started weight training a few months ago, I never witnessed quick results. Yet after a few weeks of resistance exercise -- lifting 20-pound weights for my arms, shoulders, back, and chest -- I could see definition and tone that clearly would not have resulted from my purely cardio workouts.

Improved strength and endurance -- Lunges and squats and jumping with resistance bands have strengthened my legs. Lifting weights has strengthened my arms -- and I can now lift heavier weights than when I first started my new routine. I can do more push-ups now too -- not girl push-ups on my knees but real push-ups -- than I ever could have imagined doing when I could barely lower my own body weight and would crash to the floor on my stomach. My strength has improved. My endurance has improved. I feel more powerful.

Increased energy -- Fatigue (or maybe it's laziness) sometimes prevents me from happily jumping up to begin exercising. But when I push myself and exert myself and get lost in my exercise routine, my energy returns -- and not just during my workout but for some time afterwards too. Some say energy increases from strength training because it contributes to loss of fat which means we have less to lug around each day.

Burning of more calories -- Weight training raises basal metabolism which causes more calorie burning over a 24-hour period of time. Calories even burn during sleep as a result of weight training.  For every additional pound of muscle you gain, your body burns 50 extra calories every day -- 50 more calories than the few hundred that might burn from aerobic exercise. Research shows that regular resistance training can increase your Basal Metabolic Rate by 15%. So for someone who burns 2000 calories per day, that's upwards of 300 extra calories burned every single day. 

Decreased onset of illness -- Weight training can reduce the risk of adult onset diabetes and the risk for developing colon cancer and can improve the functioning of the immune system and the efficiency of the heart. It decreases the risk of low-back injuries, decreases resting blood pressure, increases good cholesterol (HDL), and improves posture. The list goes on -- and so does healthy living if weight training becomes a way of life. As a young person already having experienced a life-threatening illness, this comforts me.

Prevention of osteoporosis -- My recent bone density test revealed that I am not at this moment at risk for developing osteoporosis. I don't want this to change. Strength training can help me maintain this status because it can significantly increase bone mineral density -- which is important because we naturally lose bone density as we age. Strength training helps protect against osteoporosis. And age should not be a deterrent. Individuals who begin training late in life -- at age 65, for example -- can restore bone loss.

Improved outlook on life -- As a result of toning and shaping my body, burning calories, enjoying greater strength and energy, and working toward a disease-free future, weight training gives me an improved outlook on life. And weight training has recently been reported to significantly improve the quality of life of women recently treated for breast cancer. A May 2006 study indicates six months of twice weekly exercise was enough to improve the overall physical and emotional condition of patients.

Twice weekly is my weight training goal. I will continue to walk and run -- and bike on occasion too -- but strength training will be my priority. Because health is a priority.