President Bush is keeping up with his colon cancer screenings. Good thing -- because five small growths were found and removed during his latest scan on Saturday.

The polyps found inside his large intestine were all less than one centimeter in size and did not appear suspicious. Still, they were sent to the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Md., to be microscopically examined for signs of cancer. Polyps can turn into cancer, so finding them early is the best way to prevent the disease and improve the odds of surviving it. It takes 48 to 72 hours for pathology reports to come back, but the majority of polyps this size are unlikely to be cancerous.

Bush is no stranger to polyps. In 1998, after a similar scan, two polyps were found. In 1999, two more surfaced. And while none were found during his 2002 screening, he has become a prime candidate for regular examinations. For the general population, colonoscopy tests are recommended every 10 years.

I never would have predicted it -- that a tooth could become a tool for dispensing medication. But the refinement of such a creation is actually in the works and before long, you may be asking not for a gold or decorative tooth but for one capable of doling out your drugs in the exact doses and at the right times.

Think about this:

Researchers from Europe and Israel are working right now on a tiny dispensing system called IntelliDrug. Their goal is to create parts small enough they can fit into a false tooth placed in the back of the mouth. The device will release a specific amount of medication at certain intervals so patients receive the proper dosage right on schedule.

This invention, crafted by an Israeli dentist, could pick up the slack for people who forget to take medicine and could save lives for those whose lives depend on scheduled drug therapy. It could also allow for better absorption of medication into the body.

The IntelliDrug device will deliver medicine directly into the bloodstream through the lining of the cheek around the mouth. Saliva, meanwhile, mixes with the drug and carries it throughout they body in a manner more efficient than just swallowing a pill every few hours.

While researchers hope to one day turn their device into a replacement tooth, the apparatus -- consisting of a stainless steel housing, a pump, custom valves, a microprocessor, batteries, and a reservoir for the drug pill -- currently comes in the form of a block the size of two teeth. It is strapped to the the side of teeth and hugs the inside of the cheek. The unit can be removed, and a technician can refill the drug reservoir, clean the unit, and change batteries when necessary.

Clinical trials on pigs are ongoing. Human testing is expected to begin by the end of the year.

University of North Carolina football coach Butch Davis recently received a shocking cancer diagnosis after a routine dental visit turned up a suspicious growth in his mouth. Pathology reports identify the cancer as non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.

Davis, 55, has had the growth removed from his gum and while he received his first chemotherapy treatment last week, he's been told there is no indication the cancer has spread to other parts of his body.

Chemotherapy for Davis began at the Cleveland Clinic in Ohio -- Davis coached the National Football League's Cleveland Browns from 2001-2004 -- but will continue at the University of North Carolina Hospital in Chapel Hill.

Davis says he is doing well, that his general health has never been better. And while fighting off cancer, he will work hard at preparing for the 2007 season.

"My family, my health and coaching this football team are my top priorities,'' Davis said. "I would appreciate and expect the focus to remain on the North Carolina football team."

The team opens the season on September 1 against James Madison University.

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?

She doesn't have breast cancer. But she did have both breasts removed and reconstructed in January to ensure as much as she can that she will never develop the disease that has struck both her mother and father.

It's the dad connection that puts René Syler, former anchorwoman for The Early Show, at such risk for breast cancer. That and the dozens of microcalcifications -- these can indicate cancer -- that repeatedly revealed themselves on mammograms and the diagnosis of atypical ductal hyperplasia that increases the risk of cancer. And while cancer was never diagnosed for this woman who was sure the disease would one day catch up with her, Syler is no stranger to the world of biopsies. And her breasts -- misshapen, shriveled, collapsed, and scarred from so many surgical procedures -- were proof of her frequent rides on the breast cancer merry-go-round.

Now Syler's breasts are gone. And she is breathing a great big sigh of relief. She calls her new "girls" incredible. And she calls her new mood "good."

"I see now that the specter of breast cancer has been permeating my life," says Syler whose story appears in the April 2007 issue of The Oprah Magazine and whose book Good-Enough Mother will be published in April.

"I couldn't really live because I was always playing defense -- watching and waiting, wondering if this would be the year I'd be diagnosed."

It's March. And that means it's the national month for Brain Injury Awareness, Endometriosis Awareness, Nutrition Awareness, Eye Health and Safety Awareness, Multiple Sclerosis Awareness, Sleep Awareness, Problem Gambling Awareness and my favorite, for the purposes of The Cancer Blog -- Colorectal Cancer Awareness.

Colorectal cancer -- cancer of the colon or rectum -- is a disease that affects both men and women and is preventable nearly 90 percent of the time.

Starting at age 50, men at women at average risk for the disease should get screened. Those with increased risk, like African-Americans who typically develop colorectal cancer at younger ages, should be screened even earlier.

Screening -- by way of fecal occult blood test (FOBT), flexible sigmoidoscopy, and colonoscopy -- is critical because colorectal cancer often occurs with no symptoms. Symptoms do sometimes present themselves in the later stages of the disease and include rectal bleeding, bright red blood in or on the stool, change in bowel habits, stools that are narrower than usual, general stomach discomfort, diarrhea, constipation, frequent gas pains, unexplained weight loss, constant fatigue, and vomiting. Persistence of any of these symptoms for more than two weeks warrant an immediate visit with a health professional.

Treatment for this disease, which strikes about 153,000 people and causes about 52,000 deaths each year, includes surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy.

In the spirit of this National Colorectal Awareness Month, experts recommend remembering these important points:

• Colorectal cancer can be prevented.
• Screening for the disease can identify polyps -- grape-sized growths in the colon and/or rectum -- that can be removed to prevent cancer from developing.
• The magic age for screening is 50 -- unless you have an increased risk for the disease.
• Colorectal cancer is treatable.
• Regardless of your age, know the risk factors, know the symptoms, and know your family history.
• Talk with your health professional about colorectal cancer and your own risk for the disease.

Some women opt to remove their ovaries to prevent breast cancer recurrence. I considered it -- and then decided I would not take such an extreme measure when I wasn't all that sure I was done having children.

Now, ovary removal may not be necessary -- because a new chemical equivalent of surgery allows women to temporarily shut down their ovaries while preserving their fertility.

The shutdown of the ovaries is called chemopause, and women who choose to go this route receive monthly injections -- considered a super-hormone treatment -- of a drug that blocks the male hormone testosterone and is often used to treat prostate cancer.

Chemopause has big advantages. It doesn't require surgery. And it's not permanent. Women who want to have children can stop the treatment in order to conceive. And women who have trouble with side effects can discontinue use of the surgery-sparing drugs.

The ovary-suppressing drugs -- triptorelin, goserelin, leuprolide, and buserelin -- can be used in place of or on top of standard chemotherapy and hormone therapy and are showing promise in their ability to decrease incidences of breast cancer recurrence.

Medical professionals agree there is value in ovarian suppression. Studies show women whose periods do not return after chemotherapy -- which often causes early menopause -- have lower relapse rates than women whose periods resume. So shutting down the ovaries and stopping menstruation may not be such a bad idea -- and not such an extreme measure either.

Bruins rookie Phil Kessel is surviving testicular cancer. And the 19-year-old former University of Minnesota player, drafted in the first round this year, is talking about his shocking diagnosis and the surgery from which he is currently recovering.

Kessel, who is expected to rest for two weeks before returning to the ice, found a lump in his testicle and went immediately to his team internist, Dr. David Judge. Judge examined him, referred him for an ultrasound, and learned with Kessel that the lump was in fact cancer -- embryonal testicular cancer.

Both Judge and Kessel are happy to report that the cancer was localized to the right testicle -- which was removed during surgery -- and had not spread. Kessel, therefore, has a very low liklihood of recurrence.

Kessel, who has five goals and four assists in 27 games this season, says about his diagnosis, "I couldn't believe it. It was tough. I had a hard time with it."

Kessel thinks cancer will help him gain perspective on life. And he plans to speak out about his experience so others may benefit.

"If you're not feeling well go get checked out and make sure you're all right," he says. Getting checked out is what saved him -- and he hopes others will follow suit.

Kessel is the second Boston athlete to be diagnosed with cancer this year. Red Sox left-hander Jon Lester was diagnosed with lymphoma in August. With chemotherapy behind him, he is currently cancer-free. And so is Kessel.

The opinion was overwhelming. I was too young for breast cancer. I heard it time and time again before my diagnosis and while it was mildly comforting to know that women in their early 30s -- like me -- rarely develop breast cancer, a sensation deep in my gut told me I was headed for something that defied statistics.

Two years ago -- on November 18 and 19 -- the clues concerning the lump in my breast were stacking up. At the time, the odds were in my favor -- despite the sinking feeling that sat in the pit of my stomach.

November 2004

I went to my OB/GYN on November 18. My doctor felt the lump but was confident it was nothing to worry about. It moved around easily, there was no discharge from my nipple, I did not feel any pain -- all signs that it was benign. But it's routine to get a mammogram for any mass so I got one the next day.

I was the youngest person waiting to get my mammogram, another sign that this lump was nothing serious because it is not common for young women to have breast cancer. Mammograms are not even recommended for women under the age of 40. I am 34. The mammogram films looked okay and the technician told me the doctor would talk to me but that she was not worried about anything. This was true but she did an ultrasound anyway to look further at the lump.

She determined it was not a cyst, which is fairly common, and nothing serious. It could be a fibroma (a common growth that can be removed or left in place without harm) or it could be cancer. She said she wanted me to have the lump removed. She wanted it out and "in a jar," she said. I asked her if it could be cancer and she said it could be.

My sister recently ran into the surgeon who removed my breast cancer tumor almost two years ago -- on December 3, 2004. He asked my sister how I was doing, recalled the unprecedented rash I developed from the latex and Tegaderm tape used during my lumpectomy, and then talked about how terribly busy he has been.

This surgeon -- who spends countless clinic hours with women whose breasts are somehow diseased and then spends day after day in operating rooms trying to remedy these diseases -- said he is amazed and at how many breast cancer cases are consuming his time. It's sad -- the amount of women showing up with breast cancer -- but there is a silver lining to this cancer cloud, because according to this surgeon, the vast majority of these breast cancer cases are early stage. This means they were caught swiftly and quickly. And for the women behind these cases, there is a good chance of long-term survival.

And so maybe all the pink and all the press surrounding breast cancer is working. Maybe it's inspiring women to pursue self-breast exams, clinical exams, mammography, and other screening options. Maybe all the persistence and passion about breast cancer is the reason for this early detection -- the key to a good prognosis.

My surgeon closed his chat with my sister by telling her to call him if anyone in our family ever needs anything. But he told her he hopes he never has to hear from us. My sentiments exactly.

Gastric cancer staging by lymph node sampling has a profound effect on patient survival. Survival of patients with gastric cancer can be compromised if the staging is done inadequately. This can happen if too few lymph nodes are removed and analyzed.

A study in an issue of Cancer, a peer-review journal of the American Cancer Society revealed that less than one third of gastric cancer patients had adequate lymph node assessments (ALNA). There was a change in the guidelines of the staging system for gastric cancer in 1997 but since then only minimal improvements have been made.

Compliance with the new guidelines remains poor because the lymph nodes removed and sampled since the change in the guidelines only increased from 9 nodes to 10. The guidelines now say that 15 lymph nodes removed and analyzed should be the standard. The lymph nodes that are tested will show how far the cancer has spread. If you do not have the correct information that the lymph node sampling can provide it can cause the patient to receive incorrect treatments and less survival rates.

I think it's safe to say that a large amount of women in this world lack self confidence. Tack on a few incisions and scars, some lop-sided or altogether missing breasts, a handful of scattered blue tattoos, a head full of newly sprouting hair, swelling arms, drug-damaged fingernails and toenails, damaged veins, alien-like ports protruding from underneath skin, unpredictable hot flashes, and a foggy brain and it's clear that women surviving breast cancer may have a few of their own issues concerning self confidence. It doesn't take science to prove this reality -- although there are studies out there that do confirm and validate that breast cancer survivors struggle with positive self images.

Results of a study released Wednesday reveal that the vast majority of breast cancer patients in Taiwan lose self confidence after having their breasts removed. The study shows that 90 percent of participants feel they have lost their beauty and femininity following a mastectomy. Women worry about their partner's perception of them after such radical appearance changes. They doubt their roles in their workplace and families. They are even afraid of having sex with their partners. And if the patients' relationship with their spouses are not good in the first place, breast removal surgery will lead to divorce about 10 percent of the time.

There is no doubt that female roles vary from country to country -- and what studies show in Taiwan may not be completely applicable to women in the United States. But there is one universal truth that knows no boundaries -- all women recovering from the ravages of breast cancer will encounter struggles. Because breast cancer does not discriminate when it comes to compromising the self esteem of its targets.

On January 14, 2005, my sister drove me to the hospital for my port placement -- a minor surgical procedure to implant an Infuse-a-Port® underneath the skin on my collarbone. My port -- used steadily ever since that January day for the infusion of breast cancer chemotherapy drugs -- is about to be removed.

Tomorrow -- September 15, 2006 -- my sister will drive me to the same hospital where another minor surgery will result in the removal of this same port and its accompanying parts. I will come home with a scar that will mark the spot symbolic of my cancer travels. Along with my healed lumpectomy incisions and my head full of new hair, this scar will remind me of where I've been and will not ever let me lose sight of where I'm going -- full steam ahead into a life I am blessed to have in front of me. A life that was never promised to me for any specific amount of time. A life I am going to wrap my arms around -- for every second, every minute, every breath I am lucky enough to take.

I am an expert in the game of what-if. I guess it's because my recent what if this hard lump in my breast is cancer worry turned into Oh My God, it is cancer that I am so polished at this exercise in all things irrational. Sure, some worries will be fulfilled by reality but for the most part, things turn out okay. But still, I worry. When a bone hurt in my arm last year, I was sure it was bone cancer. It wasn't. When I felt a soft bump on the roof of my mouth, I whisked myself to the dentist for my mouth cancer diagnosis. It was just a little bit of inflammation, probably from a cold. A headache landed me in a tube for a scan of my head. It revealed nothing interesting, and ibuprofen fixed me right up. And lately, I am checking every mole, freckle, spot, speck, and discoloration that adorns my fair skin.

I asked about each of these what-if marks yesterday at my annual skin cancer screening. Surprise -- nothing is wrong with me. But all unfounded fears aside, there is some method to my madness about skin cancer because I have had several bad burns in my life, have spent too many hours in the sun in search of a tan, and have already had a few pre-cancerous spots removed from my skin. So I do plan to monitor my skin -- just maybe not every day -- for the ABCDs of melanoma. And you should too -- because melanoma is the deadliest of skin cancers, and it is known for spreading, which makes treatment essential. So consider these what-ifs when screening yourself for skin cancer.

What if a spot on my skin is Asymmetrical? This means that one half of the mark on your skin does not match the other half. See your dermatologist.

What if the Border of the spot is irregular? This means that the edges are ragged, notched, or blurred. See your dermatologist.

What if the Color of the spot is not uniform? This means that shades of tan, brown, and black are present. Dashes of red, white, and blue add to the mottled appearance. See your dermatologist.

What if the Diameter is more than 6 millimeters? This is about the size of a pencil eraser. Any growth of any mole should also be of concern. See your dermatologist.

It is estimated that 44,000 Americans will develop melanoma annually. Of these people, 7,300 will die. But the death rate is declining -- because patients are seeking help earlier. Perhaps the ABCDs of melanoma are helping. I hope they help you -- and me too.

Screenings for colorectal cancer offer more than a chance for early treatment -- they offer the chance to avoid cancer completely. The disease usually starts with growths called polyps that can take a decade to turn cancerous. If polyps are found and removed, cancer can be avoided altogether. Yet many are avoiding the screening. And polyps that go undetected can turn to a cancer that can lurk silently in anyone -- especially during middle age and beyond. And black Americans are especially at risk.

Almost 42 million Americans over the age of 50 are not getting checked for colorectal cancer -- the nation's No. 2 cancer killer. Perhaps it's the financial burden that comes with the life-saving procedure. Now in five states, a government-funded program is offering free testing for the poor. But still, many will fall through the cracks in many states. And while Medicare pays for screenings, this federal program is for people 65 and older -- a long wait for someone at age 50 who needs the test but does not have insurance.

Perhaps it's the part of the body under study that steers people away. Perhaps it's the manner in which the test is performed -- a long, flexible tube is used to visually inspect the colon -- that turns heads in the wrong direction. While the financial burden is a valid deterrent, other worries or fears should be put to rest. The test is not all that bad, says one doctor who had a colonoscopy himself. The worst part of the whole experience may be the liquid mixture that is consumed prior to the test that cleans out the system -- minor discomfort really in the scope of the alternative. Cancer.

Colonocopies are recommended just once every 10 years. And nearly 60 percent of deaths from colorectal cancer can be prevented if each person over the age of 50 finds some way to make this screening happen. And if not this screening, there are other options -- like a fecal test that is done annually but is more more affordable and can be quite effective too. So consider your options. And make a choice.