According to a New England Journal of Medicine article, the answer is no. Women with the breast cancer mutations BRCA1 and BRCA2 seem to have similar survival rates as women without these gene mutations.

A clinical trial was conducted including 1,500 patients. The researchers wanted to see if the patients with gene mutations had worse outcomes then those that did not have the gene mutations.

The researchers found:

• Overall, deaths rates from breast cancer were not significantly different among patients with BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutations from those without the mutations.
• Among patients who underwent treatment with chemotherapy, death rates from breast cancer were not significantly different between patients with BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutations from those without the mutations.

A generic drug is exactly the same dosage, safety, strength and quality as a brand named drug. Generic drugs also do not take longer to work in the body, again, its the same ingredients as the name you are more familiar.

The reason generic drugs are cheaper is because the makers of these drugs don't have the costs of the original developer of the drug. When the patent on the developer expires, 20 years, other manufactures can introduce competitive generic versions to the FDA for approval. This also creates greater competition in the industry once generic drugs are approved and keeps costs lower.

A great place to go is here for more information on your generic drugs.

I want to share some of the many new and exciting things I came across and learned about at the Young Survival Breast Cancer Conference. One online support group I found to be very helpful and innovative is called Pink-Link. It was started only a year ago and I think this is something that is needed in the breast cancer community.

The Pink-Link Breast Cancer Support Network provides valuable community and support resources for women affected by breast cancer.

Pink-Link is a nonprofit organization and all breast cancer support services are free. Pink-Link's key service, the online database of breast cancer patients and survivors, creates an intimate and personal link between breast cancer patients and survivors. The organization was founded by Victoria Tashman in 2005.

After completing a year of breast cancer treatment, Victoria wanted to give back to the community who supported her. Victoria had a wide support group of friends and family and met many women who were battling breast cancer on their own. Some of these women were afraid of talking to their doctors, asking them questions, and finding out more about their diagnosis and treatment.

Victoria realized that not all women take advantage of their local support groups, either because they didn't know about them, didn't feel comfortable in a group, or weren't able to go to group meetings.

She also realized that in most group meetings, the chances of meeting another breast cancer patient or survivor with the same diagnosis, recommended treatment, family situation, and other such details was very slim.

Victoria created Pink-Link to fill this void. By creating an on-line database of patients and survivors, Victoria envisions women diagnosed with breast cancer getting the particular, targeted support they need from the comfort of their own home. Victoria believes in the power of women helping other women and is positive that through Pink-Link, women with breast cancer can face their illness with increased knowledge and confidence.

New research indicates when women and men have lung cancer of the same stage and receive the same treatment, women are more likely to survive.

Several studies extracting data from national cancer registries have shown that lung cancer survival is different for men and women. This study, published in the journal Chest, is the first to compare the sexes when staging and treatment are identical.

It took seven years to follow 1,085 patients with non-small cell lung cancer -- the most common type of the disease -- and at five years, 60 percent of women were still alive compared with 50 percent of men. Overall, female survival rates were consistently higher for all stages of the disease.

Researchers, who ensured there were no differences between the sexes in terms of race, other diseases, smoking history, lung function, and treatment, are not exactly sure why women fare better. But they speculate that women might respond better to chemotherapy.

What researchers do know for sure, however, is that these findings -- if given a chance -- could help improve the overall five-year survival rate for patients with non-small lung cancer by helping to locate new therapeutic options.

TIME magazine has faithfully followed the issues defining cancer. The topic has made the covers of many issues, and it receives plentiful press on the pages in between. Stories spotlight an array of different cancers, address research and new developments, and offer personal glimpses into the lives of both everyday survivors and those with celebrity status. A look into the archives of TIME magazine -- seven specific issues -- illustrates a proven commitment to the cancer cause. And it proves the mystery of cancer is much the same today as it was many years ago.

I remember thinking when my grandma was a spunky 80-year-old -- still going to aerobics classes in her purple tights -- that it must be sad to be such an age when so many friends and acquaintances are falling ill and passing away. My grandma was always one to care for others, call on others, pray for others -- and often she seemed to be the only one in her circle who was thriving. Somehow, she took it all in stride and continued baking and gardening and sewing and living strong until her own death at the age of 86 -- when she left her remaining friends and acquaintances wondering if their own time on Earth was approaching a quick end. At the time, I thought this loss of friends was merely a side effect of aging. It didn't seem to concern me at my own young age of 30. I didn't really know any 30-year-olds who were dying. And I didn't predict anyone my age would be dying until I was closer to the age of 80. How wrong I was.

I am now 36 years old. And I know many women my age who have died -- most of them because of breast cancer, the same disease I have been fighting for nearly two years. So it's not only sad to me that people my age are dying, it's also quite personal and frightening -- for it could easily me in the same predicament. So I feel vulnerable -- so many years earlier than I imagined.

I think I know how my grandma must have felt when her loved ones were leaving her. And I think I will take her same approach to coping with this unfortunate fact of life. Although I couldn't possibly bake and garden and sew like she did, I can keep busy with my own hobbies and interests. And I can continue living strong until my own death -- which hopefully won't occur until after I've made my appearance in purple tights. About 50 years from now.

Several boxes containing injections of Neulasta have lined the bottom of my refrigerator for more than a year. They are left-overs from chemotherapy -- from a time when one needle pierced the skin on my arm after each chemo treatment to keep my blood counts in a safe range. I've looked at them day after day after day, and I've allowed them to sit in the same exact spot for all this time. But today, they are in the trash -- not because I made a conscious choice to throw them away but because water spilled all over the inside of my refrigerator and left them soggy and damaged. Surely I would not have used them in this condition, I thought -- so I tossed them. But really, I would not have used them anyway. They were old -- probably past their expiration date -- and I am not receiving chemotherapy anymore. I had absolutely no use for them. But I kept them for safety or comfort or some other impractical reason -- for the same reason I keep a basket full of old medication in my kitchen cupboard. It's all cancer-related -- most of it never touched because I don't really like taking medication, even when necessary. So this stock-piling tendency defies all logic for me. Until today -- when part of my past sits in a white trash bag, ready for the curb, and the rest of it is soon to be trashed. So I can continue moving forward. Away from cancer. For good.

In all of my research on breast cancer -- and all of my attempts to discover what I may have done to invite this disease into my body -- I have learned that there are some behavioral risk factors related to cancer. Some risk factors are loosely linked and perhaps need further study. And some are definites. Like smoking. And consistent use of alcohol. Now a new study done on rats now shows that nicotine can reduce blood alcohol concentrations and can lead to heavier drinking. Smoking and drinking -- at the same time -- may be even more dangerous than originally thought.

Only two previous studies have examined the interactions between nicotine and alcohol. So there is very little research about how nicotine assists in the metabolizing of alcohol. Until now -- said Wei-Jung Chen, associate professor of neuroscience and experimental therapies at the Texas A&M Health Science Center in College Station, Texas. Chen said it was clear in her study that the presence of nicotine significantly reduced peak blood alcohol content. This was observed only when alcohol entered through the stomach -- and not when injected into the abdomen. For humans, this means that people smoking while drinking will have to drink even more to reach the effect they desire. This will ultimately lead to increased amounts of toxic byproducts in the body. And it may prevent absorption of beneficial drugs in some people who both smoke and drink. And I can't imagine that the list of negatives will stop here. But is there really any more information necessary to support the danger of this combination of risky behaviors -- behaviors that on their own are dangerous enough to cause worry and concern.

For the almost two years I have been receiving treatment for breast cancer, I have traveled the same path -- over and over and over again -- from my house to the hospital and back again. And while I have seen different doctors and received different treatments and visited various departments and locations for all sorts of surgeries and tests and scans and X-rays, the path has remained the same. And after all the time that has passed, the power of the path has never diminished -- despite how familiar it has become.

Today I drove from my house to the hospital for a counseling appointment. I drove the same stretch of highway for a few miles, got off on my usual exit, drove for a few more miles past all the typical shopping centers and restaurants, and came to the light where I always turn left into the Cancer Center. I drove into the parking lot, found a parking space -- thankfully -- and displayed my yellow patient parking permit that allows to park without fear of a $20 ticket. I got out of my car and began my walk to the main hospital where the psychology clinic is located. I passed -- as usual -- the startling crowds of people smoking outside the Cancer Center, the groups of medical students who gather outside the medical facilities, the masses of people in white coats racing around and checking beepers and talking on cell phones. I entered the hospital, traveled to the ground floor, and turned a few corners until I reached my clinic. I checked in, paid my $25 co-pay, and waited for a just a few minutes until I was greeted by my counselor. We walked to a private room, talked for an hour, and then I followed my path in reverse.

The path is always the same. It is routine and predictable and rarely varies. But it has never become dull and I have never become numb to it -- because the power that is wrapped up in my drive and my subsequent steps that take me to and from my destinations still has a tight hold on me. I can travel the same path for other purposes -- to shop or have dinner -- and the power is lost. But when I travel for reasons all about cancer, the power overwhelms me. It happened today -- as I drove listening to the same CD I always play on these missions, as tears filled my eyes. I was not sad -- just overflowing with emotion. Emotion about all that I've encountered -- the encounters with fear and dread and total repulsion and the encounters with hope and joy and pure contentment. Today I felt powerful. Simply powerful. Because I have overcome what has faced me so far and because I am still traveling the same road, the same path to ensure my future health and well-being -- which is something I hope to become all too familiar with.

I received a comment today on my Sunday Seven post about how inspiring sentiments help me survive. The comment was from a women who is surviving lung cancer and she asked a question to all readers really -- when will the fear of recurrence ever go away? How do you out there deal with it? So I replied to her private e-mail address and shared my thoughts about fear and recurrence and how I deal with these issues as a cancer survivor. She replied and wrote, your e-mail was so uplifting. I think I just found you on a really bad day and I am thankful that I did. And so I realized that maybe I should not limit my thoughts to just one person when others are surely in her same boat -- my same boat. So here is what I wrote to this one reader who -- like so many others on my journey -- has helped me by allowing me the chance to help her.

Just want to say that I think you are already dealing with the fear-of-recurrence thing because you have been surviving for as long as you have been traveling this bumpy road. So while you survive, you just need to live each day like it's your last and fight for your life at the same time. Someone once told me to think of cancer as a chronic condition -- something we will live with for the rest of your lives. And we just keep treating it, wherever it pops up. And the longer we survive, the more resources there are to help us survive even longer. As for getting through each day, I recommend counseling (I go once per month but at one time I went each week). I also take an anti-depressant (Zoloft) which I do not push on anyone, but for me, it has helped. I went to my oncologist one day and asked him how to live peacefully without worrying constantly that cancer is coming back to haunt me -- he said many cancer patients take anti-depressants to take the edge off so I began the drug and began counseling too. Neither completely take away the fear -- but they help me manage and that's all I can ask for. I also have two little boys who keep me busy and distracted from feeling sorry for myself. And I try to keep busy in other ways too. Helping others with cancer -- or others who just need help -- is healthy too!

Helping others with cancer does help me. It reminds me that I am not alone and that others have fears like me and that collectively, we can all survive better if we lean on one another and borrow from one another and inspire one another.

I sometimes complain about the lack of warmth I've encountered from medical professionals throughout my journey with breast cancer. There have been glimpses of compassion. And there are a few who stand out as truly caring and concerned. But there seems to be a general lack of sensitivity. Maybe it's a side effect of the job -- distance -- that I should have been prepared for. But instead I was shocked by how I often felt forgotten, like a number, just one of many in my same boat. And this makes me sad -- for me and for all the others who sail rough waters in search of health. I have waited in lobbies for hours -- four hours one time -- and I've been encouraged to toughen up. I've rarely felt comforted -- except by a few who have hugged me or placed a hand on my shoulder. That's all it takes. A simple gesture or kind word.