Business is business. Maybe it's about making a difference in the world of consumers but mostly, it's about making money. I get that -- and if I owned my own company and offered some sort of product, surely my goal would be to reap a financial reward. And if I wanted to increase my reward, I guess I would consider new markets, new advertising, and new techniques for hauling in loads of cash.

So I see what's going on with the new Camel No. 9 cigarettes, in their hot-pink fuscia and minty-teal green packages with the slogan Light and Luscious. I understand this brand is targeting female smokers with enticing wording that Camel maker R.J. Reynolds executives say is meant to suggest dressed to the nines, putting on your best. I even get that it's a pretty savvy strategy. But somehow, it all seems so wrong.

In a world where more women die of lung cancer than breast cancer -- by a large margin -- how can anyone, even business people whose sights are set on profits, feel OK with the decision to encourage women to smoke?

Think about these passages that just recently published in a New York Times article:

Wall Street analysts praise the introduction of Camel No. 9, in regular and menthol flavors, as a further step by the R. J. Reynolds, a unit of Reynolds American, toward a new marketing strategy. The goal is to refocus on the biggest, most popular -- and most profitable -- brands, which include Kool as well as Camel.

"What we're about is giving adult smokers a choice," says one executive, "with products we believe are more appealing than existing products." The introduction of Camel No. 9 is part of plans to "focus on products that are 'wow,' " she added, "that add fun and excitement to the category."

Fun and excitement? Believe me, there's nothing fun and exciting about cancer. Now if I could only package that truth and market it to the world. I suspect I'd be a rich woman -- and I don't mean financially.

What a gift it would be if it were possible to sleep through cancer, literally sleep through the entire experience -- from diagnosis through the end of treatment -- and wake up on the other end of the bad dream. Unfortunately, this isn't possible. We must be alert and aware and active in our own plans for survival. All we are typically permitted are now-and-then naps and nighttime sleep -- if we can manage to actually sleep at night.

My sleep was never disturbed during my cancer journey. Night after night, just after my head hit my pillow, my body drifted right to sleep -- only waking for brief trips to the bathroom and to get out of bed the next day. I might have had an occasional sleepless night. But for the most part, I count myself as one lucky cancer patient, blessed with restful and regular sleep.

Not all cancer patients are privileged sleepers. And with all I was enduring during my own cancer ordeal -- emotions, hospitalizations, treatments, side effects, and pain -- it's a wonder I was able to manage so well in the sleep department.

Sleep is critical for maintaining strength and energy while fighting cancer -- while living life in general really. When nighttime sleep is disrupted, interrupted, or downright impossible, normal functioning and healing are compromised. So the quest for good, quality sleep should make its way to the top of your cancer to-do list. And if you are not sure just how to begin such a quest, consider these seven strategies for sleeping through cancer -- compliments of Marie-Helene Savard, doctoral student in psychology, and Dr. Josee Savard, associate professor and researcher of psychology at Laval University Cancer Research Center in Quebec, Canada.

• Set aside at least one hour to relax before going to bed.
• Go to bed only when you feel sleepy -- which is not the same as fatigue.
• If you can't fall asleep or can't go back to sleep after 20 or 30 minutes, get out of bed and leave the bedroom. Do something else -- and only go back to bed when you feel sleepy again. Repeat as necessary.
• Get up at the same time every day -- regardless of how much sleep you got. Use an alarm clock to wake.
• Use your bedroom only for sleep and sexual activities. Avoid reading, working, watching TV, or listening to the radio in the bedroom.
• Avoid napping. If you must take a nap, do so before 3:00 PM and for less than one hour.
• Keep realistic expectations about sleep -- avoid worrying about the amount of sleep you should have or the amount of time it takes you to fall asleep -- and try to become tolerant of your lack of sleep.

Sweet dreams.

I have heard the term chemobrain many times -- even here at The Cancer Blog when Dalene wrote about it. And I've started using the terminology myself -- to explain my new-found odd behavior. Like when I put a carton of ice cream in the refrigerator with no recollection of it. And when I took a cap off a pen, couldn't find it, and discovered it on top of an egg carton in the refrigerator. I don't think this is a refrigerator theme -- just a coincidence -- because I've also lost a clipboard at work, forgotten to hand a guest her glass of water immediately after I prepared it, lost library books and movies, and failed to remember responsibilities time and time again. This may seem like minor forgetfulness -- this is what my oncologist believes may be at work -- but for me, this is odd. I have always had a good memory, have always delivered on my promises, and have never felt as scattered as I do now. So I call it chemobrain -- a good excuse, I figure -- and am now trying to determine what exactly this word means.

My oncologist tells me he doesn't really like this term. He thinks it puts a negative spin on regular functioning. He believes those of us who have experienced chemotherapy look more closely at our post-chemo behavior and may interpret quirky stuff as more serious than it is. It probably existed before chemotherapy, he says. But now, we are more sensitive to it and find chemotherapy a good explanation. He may be right. But for me, something in my head has definitely been altered.

One patient advocate for Hurricane Voices: A Breast Cancer Foundation believes that something doesn't have to be scientifically proven to exist. And while chemobrain may not be completely proven, there are still studies that support its existence -- which manifests itself through aging-type memory problems, forgetfulness, distraction, and loss of the ability to calculate quickly. Some studies show that 20 to 30 percent of women who undergo chemotherapy for breast cancer, and some who receive similar treatment for lymphoma, score lower than average on mental function tests for as long as 10 years after chemotherapy. ''There's enough data now to at least know it's a real effect,'' said Dr. Ian F. Tannock, a psychiatrist who has studied this issue at Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto. Some suggest that typical aging may be at fault -- and for premenopausal women who may be rushed into menopause, this effect may be due to hormonal issues. Regardless, it seems to stem from chemotherapy -- somehow. And somehow, this topic needs more attention, more research, and maybe a more positive name.