I'm an organizer, a plan-maker, a woman of many lists. It's all part of my Type A personality -- the one that contributes to a bit of stress but also helps me stay on top of things. I like staying on top of things.

Lists have become more important to me than ever, thanks to cancer and chemo and my forgetful brain. If I want to remember something, I must write it down. If I let just a moment pass without recording the thought I want to keep, it's gone. So I have ongoing grocery lists, household to-do lists, task lists, even lists of questions I want to ask my doctor. Since I see my doctors just once every few months, I keep a running list. Sometimes the list is quite long when I arrive for my appointment. Sometimes I don't have time to cover each topic. Sometimes I transfer questions onto future lists.

It would be nice if I could get all my medical questions answered at each visit. I once read that the typical amount of time a doctor spends with a patient is eight minutes -- so it makes sense I never cross off all my list items. But in the future, I may do better at covering my bases, thanks to this advice I found in the in the July 2007 issue of Good Housekeeping.

Sarita Zouvas knows what it's like to have a child in the hospital. Her daughter, Isabella -- who died while receiving treatment for cancer -- spent many days in the hospital, and Zouvas says it's hard to anticipate what items from home will make a child's stay more comfortable.

"We don't go prepared," she says. "You don't take clothes; you don't know what's going on. You get there and they put a gown on them. My first response is, 'I want to make them comfortable because they're scared.'"

Zouvas has found a way to bring comfort to the lives of children at her local Children's Hospital. And her goal is to make sure every child admitted to the hospital during the holiday season gets a complimentary pair of pajamas.

After the death of her daughter, Zouvas became involved with the Friends of Scott Foundation (FSF) -- a non-profit organization founded in memory of Scott Delgadillo who lost his life to childhood cancer. FSF strives to help children with cancer and their families with emotional and financial support in order to cope with this devastating disease. Zouvas became a part of the FSF support team and is thrilled she can help bring comfy jammies to sick children.

Zouvas says the response to her call for help has been overwhelming. Most pajamas are donated and have come from as far away as Boston. Employees of the San Diego Padres, Southwest Airlines, and the district attorney's office have also helped Zouvas in the endeavor she hopes will continue year-round.

For more information on the Friends of Scott Foundation and Zouvas' pajama drive, click here.

All cancers are not treated equally. Some attract a frenzy of attention -- breast cancer -- and some receive not much attention at all -- gallbladder cancer. Some are vigorously researched and studied. Others sit by idly, rarely the subject of investigation. Some are feverishly funded. Some never prosper by way of financial support. Yet they all share something very important in common. They are all cancer.

All cancers are marked by an uncontrollable division and spread of abnormal cells. And they are all capable of delivering shock and despair and even death to any one of us. And that makes each one -- brain cancer, cervical cancer, colon cancer, eye cancer, liver cancer, prostate cancer, stomach cancer, you name it -- worthy of equal attention.

And so I bring to you Cancer by the Numbers, a series of posts that will feature the basics about all sorts of cancer, beginning with the numbers -- the statistics -- to help define the prevalence of each cancer, followed by important facts about screening, diagnosis, treatment, survival, and more. I will cover the well-known cancers, the sort-of-known cancers, the barely-known cancers. And while I can only offer what I can track down on each form of cancer, I intend to dish out every piece of data I can dig up -- so we all can become a little more informed, a little more prepared should we have to personally do battle with any one of the 100 possible cancers out there.

The American Cancer Society reports that 1,399,790 new cancer cases will be diagnosed in 2006. This estimate does not include most carcinoma in situ (noninvasive cancer) cases and also does take into account the estimated one million cases of basal and squamous cell skin cancers that will be diagnosed this year. Of these predicted cases, about 564,830 will result in death -- that's more than 1,500 people each day. Cancer is the second most common cause of death in the United States, exceeded only by heart disease, and accounts for one of every four deaths.

These numbers are staggering. But without further explanation, they are broad and all-encompassing and don't say much about how all the individual diseases add up. That's what I plan to do -- break it all down, cancer by cancer, until the numbers make sense. And the cancers do too.

Joey has a hard time staying in bed when we put him down for the night. When we ask him why he continually gets up, he tells us that he wants to be with us -- mommy and daddy --  and that he wants to watch TV and that he's just not tired. He is five years old. And he will try anything to coax us into allowing him to stay up just a little bit longer. Lately, he's been asking serious questions he knows will take some time to answer -- like how exactly does a light bulb work? And how does lightening get in the air? And how do you build a house? Last night, his questions followed a medical path -- a cancer path really.

My mom goes for a mammogram today -- which reminds me of a time when this test meant nothing to me, a time when all I needed to know was that women my mom's age went for this procedure that squashes and squeezes and manipulates breasts so that pictures can be taken and tissue can be studied. I thought that I would be 40 years old when I went for my own mammogram and that I would casually learn that everything looked normal -- that breast cancer was of no concern. But it didn't happen this way -- instead I went for my first mammogram at age 34, six years earlier than recommended, because I felt an odd lump. And I learned that cancer was of concern. I learned that I had breast cancer. And so now, as I am about to turn 36, I have had three mammograms and will return every six months for the rest of my life for this test. By age 40, I'll be a pro.

I once thought a family history of breast cancer trickled down from the older women in a family -- that a grandmother might have it first, then her daughter, then her daughter. Like a chain reaction. But now I know that family history can start with anyone, at any age. I started this chain in my family.  And there is no telling whether or not the chain will break or will hold strong. So the women in my family are now followed almost as closely as I am. And mammograms occur frequently for us all.

I was once unaffected by my mom's mammograms.  Now I am more aware, more prepared for the seriousness of this exam, more humbled because of my own experience. And today I hope that my mom learns casually that everything looks normal -- that breast cancer is of no concern.

The day I was diagnosed with breast cancer is the day I bought Dr. Susan Love's Breast Book -- actually my sister ran to the store and bought it for me -- after it was recommended as the bible for women with breast cancer. I was told that in the absence of answers to my questions from my doctor, I should look to Dr. Love for responses that would probably mirror what my own doctor would say. So if a question or worry entered my head, I didn't have to call and leave a message for my doctor. I didn't have to wait for a return call or for my next appointment. I could open the pages of this almost 600-page book and find up-to-date and accurate information. The information I found eased my mind and gave me hope -- and it also scared me and introduced to me to the sometimes-tragic effects of breast cancer.