I keep thinking about my ongoing negative relationship with the sun, how it burns me time and time again, how I keep trying to fine-tune my approach to dealing with this deadly force. Today, I have arrived at two new thoughts.

1. There was a time when I wanted a tan. I'd accept a burn even, in hopes it would turn to the slightest shade of brown on my pasty white skin. I would search high and low for the sun. I would drive in its direction, bask in its glory, give hours of my day to this crazy pursuit. Somehow, though, achieving a tan -- or burn -- wasn't easy. Sometimes, I'd see some color appear; sometimes my efforts seemed for nothing. It took work, effort, endless amounts of time and while my ventures in sunbathing did sometimes prove successful, there were many times I was left with, well, pasty white skin.

Fast forward to now. Not only do I seek shelter from the sun, but I use sunscreen, sit under umbrellas, and cover up whenever I can. Still, I get burned. It seems if I look in the direction of the sun, with my sunscreen-coated face, it will get burned. Long ago, my bare face only occasionally absorbed the sun. Why the change? Why when I worked not at all at protecting myself was it so hard to attract a golden glow? Why now do I protect myself in all ways possible and still sizzle? I'm wondering if it has anything to do with the chemotherapy drugs that poisoned my body for so long. A dermatologist once told me about a phenomenon called UV recall. The sun and the drugs can react, long after treatment has concluded, and can cause skin reactions. Maybe this is what's happening to me. Just in case, this gives me all the more reason to avoid all contact with the sun.

Today I offer you not so much a Thought for the Day but a Question for the Day. Before I ask my pressing question, though, I want you to consider this story.

Diagnosed with a rare malignant melanoma on her retina in 2001, Ann Guthrie, a South Carolina wife and mother of two grown sons, endured radiation and chemotherapy. The treatments shrunk Guthrie's tumor, but another mass appeared two years later, forcing the removal of her right eye.

At about the same time Guthrie lost her eye, cancer was discovered in her lungs. It was inoperable. Then cancer landed in her brain. And now, without any approved treatment avenues, Guthrie is out of options.

Like many people with terminal illnesses, this woman is willing to try just about anything -- a clinical trial, experimental drugs, risky treatments -- to extend her life. If she's going to die anyway, why not? She just might live longer. And if she doesn't, she could at least help advance science by offering herself up as a sort of guinea pig.

While the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has proposed changes that would make it easier for patients to access options like these, it's just not that simple right now.

There are ethical issues -- like weighing the needs of people who think anything is better than death against the need of society to prove drugs and treatments work safely. The only way to ensure a sort of balance is through clinical trials -- and letting anyone participate in clinical trials, for example, would make the results harder to interpret.

And there are medical and legal risks. What if terminally ill patients end up in worse shape after a treatment with an experimental drug, for example? What if the FDA or a physician is considered responsible for adverse drug reactions?

Denying terminal patients their last bits of hope is difficult. "It's a hard discussion to have with a patient and his family," says one doctor. "There's a lot of tears. We all would love to be able to get them access to some form of therapy."

And now for my question:

What do you think about terminally ill cancer patients and their access to anything that might extend -- or save -- their lives?

Numbness is wearing off, and I am beginning to feel twinges of pain surrounding the area where my port was once located. I can't see what was done to me today -- because the area is carefully bandaged -- but I know from what I feel that my skin has been cut and sewn back together. I feel the skin tightening, stretching, pulsing and while it's not terribly comfortable, it's pretty minor compared to the pain of so many other cancer procedures -- like my lumpectomy, my chemotherapy, my nausea, my neutropenia, my allergic reactions to various medications.

So I am fine, following my port removal that was predicted to last a few hours but somehow took most of the day. The actual procedure took just one hour, and the twilight drug that kept me in a peaceful funk allowed me to relax while the port that was tunneled into the tissue underneath my skin was precisely taken from my body. It was an uneventful experience -- except for a few tears that dripped from my eyes during the final moments before my surgery. I think it may have been the power of the moment -- the moment signaling the end of my active cancer journey. Or it may have been the power of support offered by my sister and my three-year-old son who accompanied me today. Or it may have been the power of the response I gave a nurse who had just seen my little guy and asked me if I planned to have more children. My response -- probably not, because of cancer -- seemed a little too final, a little too sad.

It may have been the combination of everything, all adding up over the past two years, that brought tears to my eyes today. But for now, the tears are gone. And the port is gone. For now, my cancer is gone.

I have never completely cut a certain food from my diet just because of speculation that it may cause cancer. Because I eat most everything in moderation, I have felt that anything I am ingesting is too small an amount to make any real difference. I have heard recommendations about nixing preserved foods and anything treated with hormones and refined sugar and while I try to eat a balanced, healthy diet -- with a bit of sweet stuff thrown in -- I do sometimes indulge my cravings for foods that are not very healthy. Like chips -- which writer Robert L. Wolke says he is definitely eliminating from his diet.

The chemical acrylamide -- a probable carcinogen -- has been found in fried starchy foods, especially potato chips and French fries. This chemical is not a contaminant that somehow appears in our food but is created by chemical reactions that take place during cooking at high temperatures. It's a chemical that has been used in industry and has been known to damage the central nervous system, the immune system, and the reproductive system. And it may cause cancer. Recently, acrylamide was discovered in foods at hundreds of times the .5-parts-per-billion level that is considered safe in drinking water.

Authorities in Germany have already begun enforcing regulations to minimize the amounts of acrylamide in foods. But the United States has been criticized for dragging its feet on this issue. In fact, the National Uniformity for Food Act (H.R. 4167) recently passed the U.S. House of Representatives, with 94 percent of Republicans supporting it and 64 percent of Democrats opposing. It has gone to the Senate, where it was the subject of a hearing on July 27. The act would prohibit states or local governments from setting more stringent limits on toxic substances.

Each of us can still take personal action with regard to the foods we eat -- despite what the government dictates. We can decide what to eat and what not to eat. In the interest of our health. And our future.

For information on acrylamide levels in hundreds of different foods, click here.

In the past year, I have had three severe skin reactions characterized by red, itchy, burning bumps that start on my chest and without fail climb over my shoulders and onto my back. They last for a few weeks, are irritated by the Florida heat, and have had no known cause -- until today when I visited my dermatologist for a skin cancer screening and briefed her on this bizarre condition that has kept me away from sunscreen and out of the swimming pool and in hiding from the sun. I have suspected that sunscreen, chlorine, the sun -- or some combination of the three -- have been my potential irritants. So I've been avoiding them altogether. But I learned today that the sunscreen and the chlorine are not to blame. That leaves the sun, which is the most likely culprit -- and only because I have received chemotherapy with one very toxic drug. Adriamycin.

My dermatologist told me about a phenomenon called UV Recall that is associated with Adriamycin. Apparently the toxicity of this drug, even though administered long ago, can be recalled, causing a reaction when the UV rays of the sun soak into my skin. Sunscreen may help, my doctor told me, but she cautioned me that it is just a screen -- it does not offer full protection. And she said the best suncreen option would include zinc oxide. I think for me, though, staying out of the sun is my best bet. It's not ideal -- it means I will remain on the fringe of the swimming pool, hiding in the shade, while my boys swim their little hearts out. And tropical vacations will be off my wish list. And I will seek outdoor fun mostly after the sun goes down. But this is okay -- I knew there were long-term side effects of chemotherapy drugs. I am just thankful for now that my heart has not been compromised -- a side effect of both Adriamycin and the drug Herceptin that I have also received. And it's also not a bad thing that the steps I must now take to prevent skin reactions are also the steps that protect me from skin cancer. So in some sort of round-about way, my inconvenient skin issues may just help me stay healthy. And that's just fine with me.

By injecting laboratory mice with human embryonic stem cells, Technion Institute of Technology in Israel researchers have created mice that are partly-human. After the injection of human embryonic stem cells, the mice grew mixed lumps of human tissue called tetromas. Testing experimental drugs on tetromas in mice eliminates the need to put human volunteer test subjects at a potentially life-threatening danger of unknown adverse reactions to new drugs being developed and tested for safety.

Until now, the only way to determine if an experimental drug was effective, or safe, was to test it on monkeys or human volunteers. The problem is that monkeys do not always have the same reaction to a drug that humans do. While developing laboratory mice that grow human lumps of tissue sounds freakishly Frankenstein, humanized mice do allow scientists to make much more accurate advances in the development of effective and safe drugs to treat cancer.

According to Professor Yoram Reiter, "Scientists are currently able to cure cancer in mice, but not in humans. It is hoped that the humanized mice will throw light on this discrepancy and help scientists fine tune cancer treatments."