I love it when seven of something lands before me, offering me potential material for the Sunday Seven series. In fact, it just happened. And I can't wait to start writing about the Seven Levels of Healing common to cancer patients and those who love them.

I have a new book. It's called The Journey Through Cancer: Healing and Transforming the Whole Person by Jeremy Geffen, MD.

Dr. Geffen knows cancer. He lost his father just three months after a stomach cancer diagnosis. He became an oncologist. He founded a cancer research center. He travels and speaks and writes about health and wellness. And inside the pages of his newly revised and updated paperback, he details the Seven Levels of Healing -- a blend of conventional and complementary principles-- and the true stories of cancer patients who have directly experienced them.

It occurred to me while first flipping through this book that I might read it in its entirety and then write a review of the material. Then I determined it would take much too long for this approach. With two small children, a few jobs, an exercise routine I must revisit, and all the other bits and pieces of life that keep me occupied, this would be quite an undertaking -- the actual reading, the remembering, the writing. Somehow, this would be too much to manage. But small steps. I think I can handle small steps. So this is how it's going to work.

I will present to you in this post the Seven Levels of Healing. I don't know much about them yet -- although by title alone, I am sure I have lived most of them in my own cancer journey. So I will simply lay the groundwork. And then I will start reading. And as I read, I will write. This will be my own one-woman book club -- with an open invitation for new members. Read my posts and reflect on them. Agree. Disagree. Leave comments. Buy your own book. Read with me. Apply what you learn to your own life. Share what you learn with others. The possibilities are endless as I journey my way through this new book in search of peace, clarity, and comfort -- all of which flow from these seven levels.

Level One: Education & Information
Level Two: Connection with Others
Level Three: The Body as Garden
Level Four: Emotional Healing
Level Five: The Nature of Mind
Level Six: Life Assessment
Level Seven: The Nature of Spirit

And so that's what I have to offer for now. I'm sorry to keep you hanging. But rest assured, I am hanging right along with you, eager to find a moment to dive into this book. To sink my teeth into the words, sentences, paragraphs, chapters. To relay it all to you. I can't wait -- to really understand the Seven Levels of Healing.

Stay tuned for:
The Journey Through Cancer: Introduction

I have had a hard time keeping my counseling appointments lately. Life keeps getting in the way, and counseling keeps getting pushed to the side. The last time I called my counselor to cancel -- due to an emergency room trip with my three-year-old -- I mentioned that my inability to keep up with sessions was perhaps a precursor to an eventual termination of our counseling relationship. My counselor -- Lindsay -- said this was maybe an accurate assessment, that we should discuss the possibility of an ending point. We haven't yet discussed it, though, because I have not made the time to contact her. I have continued to leave counseling on the back burner.

But today Lindsay sent me an e-mail to check in. She wrote that I am probably going to be okay on my own now -- in the aftermath of cancer -- and that we should have one final session to reflect on my progress over the past 16 months. I have not replied to Lindsay -- not because I am busy with other things but simply because her words made me cry. They still make me cry, hours later. I'm not exactly sure why. And I'm not exactly sure how I will follow up on scheduling my very last session.

I assume my tears -- my sadness -- are part of the healing process, part of the separation anxiety I feel each time a part of my treatment ends and a part of my life moves on. I assume I am sad at the prospect of leaving a vital part of my recovery behind, about leaving the comfort of my counseling chair, about leaving Lindsay. The possibilities are endless. And I suppose we will cover all possibilities when Lindsay and I sit down for our last, final, concluding session -- when we recall how much I have grown since the day we first met, when I could barely mutter a word about cancer without weeping uncontrollably, when I could barely manage to find pleasure in my days, when I could barely imagine that life could -- and would -- offer me peace and happiness.

Today, life is good. And it's clear that counseling is no longer necessary for my survival. But that doesn't make it any easier to make my final appointment. To contemplate saying my last goodbye. To tackle life completely on my own. Which is what I will do -- in time -- so I can continue moving on, away from breast cancer.

I've been keeping a journal ever since I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. I first wrote by hand in a pink fabric-covered book, sprinkled with multi-colored polka dots. It looked feminine -- which is why I bought it -- and it's vibrance made me feel inspired, motivated, eager to write down the dreaded details of the beginning of my journey. Then I stopped writing in this book and began typing my words in an on-line journal -- a blog. My husband designed the presentation of it, with a pink banner that serves as the backdrop for the title -- my Breast Cancer blog. My first entry was completed on December 21, 2004 and I am still chronicling my journey here. I am also writing for this site -- the Cancer Blog -- and I write whenever and wherever else I can record my words. I do it because it helps me process information in a quiet, calming, introspective way. It soothes me, helps me work through panic and anxiety, helps me heal, and helps me chart my progress. When I look back at what I've written, I realize how far I've come -- or haven't come -- and it helps me move forward. I recommend journaling for everyone, and I recommend these seven simple suggestions for getting started.