I've read stories about women whose breast cancer diagnoses were delayed because they explained away certain symptoms. One woman, an athlete, was told by her husband one day that her nipple looked different from the other. "It's probably just the jog bra I've been wearing all day," she assured him. They both moved on.

Some time later, this woman learned that her different nipple was a sign of breast cancer. And she had it. She just didn't know it. And so her diagnosis came late. Eight years later, this young mother of two small children died from a disease she explained away.

This is normal -- the art of explaining away all the odd messages our bodies give us. Perhaps it's the stigma of whining about every little ache and pain that keeps us from pursuing immediate medical attention. It could be the likelihood that our complaints are pretty normal, so we refrain from rushing to judgment.

I'm practicing this well-established art right now. It's odd for me because I've already had breast cancer, and I am usually ultra-sensitive to every twinge of pain I feel. So when I woke this morning, with a tight and aching feeling in my chest, one would have thought I'd be racing out the door, headed for the nearest emergency room. I considered the fact that perhaps I need to be seen, that a chest X-ray might be in order, but I took no action -- because I explained the feeling away. It went something like this:

It must be the way I slept. I slept in a different bed, with one child and one dog, and I don't think I moved an inch all night.

The feeling gets less intense with time. At this moment, I can only feel something -- and it's very mild -- if I inhale deeply.

If I have the same feeling tomorrow morning, I will pursue it -- no, I won't pursue it just yet because I wont' be sleeping in my own bed for a few more nights. I'll wait until I get back to my own bed and see what happens. Maybe this bed is not good for me.

This goes on and on. For me, I think it happens because I suspect nothing really is wrong with me. Perhaps I am dismissing something serious but mostly, I'm chalking this behavior to progress. Because there was a day when I ran to the dentist for a bump on the roof of my mouth -- it was nothing -- and I cried to get myself a next-day mammogram for some lumpy tissue I was convinced was cancer -- it wasn't -- and now, I am happy to feel more like a normal person. I am happy to have perfected my new art, which incidentally I will abandon in an instant if the discomfort persists.

My husband says he's had this feeling before when getting out of bed. I think I'm going to be OK.

This comment just arrived in response to yesterday's post Headed for melanoma, and it's just too raw and powerful to leave buried in the comment section of the site.

So here it is, word for word -- a chilling and empowering message from a 37-year-old mom of two living with a disease that is downright deadly.

I have melanoma. I was diagnosed last August and have had 6 surgeries in 6 months.

I have lost 4 members in my melanoma support group. I go to Jaime's funeral tomorrow afternoon. She was 29 years old. Heather was 37 when she died on March 2, 2007. The midwife noticed a suspicious mole on her leg during the birth of her 4th child. She died 23 months later. Jan was a mother of 5 ages 9 to 19, she passed away on February 8, 2007. Ceri was only 20 years old when melanoma claimed her life on January 14, 2007.

I always thought skin cancer had to be HUGE, ugly, and hard to ignore. I didn't know it could be small, have no symptoms, and KILL you.

Melanoma incidence is increasing faster than any other cancer. According to statistics found on the American Cancer Society's website (www.cancer.org), the prognosis for someone diagnosed with melanoma is worse, stage for stage, than someone with breast cancer.

Getting more than 3 blistering sunburns during childhood doubles your risk. Sunbed use increases ones risk. Having fair skin and light eyes also puts you at a higher than average risk, but having dark skin does not make you immune. Bob Marley died from Melanoma in 1981.

Everyone at higher risk should get screened by a dermatologist every year. And all of us should be checking our own skin each month.

Melanoma is a virulent and aggressive cancer. It begins in the melanocytes, or the pigment in the skin. It presents itself as a change in an existing mole or skin pigment, or in the formation of a new one. It is easily treated in its most early stages. Once it spreads, though, it is often fatal.

Unfortunately, there is no cure for melanoma. Melanoma is one of the cancers that won't respond to conventional chemotherapy. There have been no significant advances in the medical treatment or survival rate in the last 30 years.

More awareness is needed. Most think "it's only skin cancer" and consider it nothing serious. But I can tell you with absolute certainty, they are DEAD wrong.

Doctors prescribing anemia drugs for patients with kidney disease and cancer were urged by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) on Friday to carefully dispense of these drugs due to an increased risk of death and other serious problems, such as blood clots, strokes, and heart attacks in patients with chronic kidney failure and rapid tumor growth in patients with head and neck cancer who receive doses higher than recommended.

The potentially harmful drugs, sold under than brand names Procrit, Epogen, and Aranesp, are genetically engineered versions of a natural protein -- called erythropoietin -- that increases the number of red blood cells. The drugs, with combined 2006 U.S. sales of $10 billion, are commonly used for patients with certain forms of kidney disease and for those receiving chemotherapy for cancer.

The FDA is adding warnings to the drugs' labels that will strongly instruct doctors to use the lowest possible dose needed to help patients avoid blood transfusions.

The FDA will also take a close look at how the drugs are marketed, including claims the drugs can improve the quality of life.

A meeting of FDA officials to further discuss this issue, believed to stem from drug overuse by dialysis centers and oncologists who make more money by using more of the drugs. is scheduled for May 10. Recommendations could lead to additional revisions of the drugs' labels.

A U.K. researcher confirms what many dog lovers already know -- dogs are good for your health.

Apparently, dog owners are generally healthier than non-pet-owners. They have lower blood pressure and cholesterol, suffer fewer minor ailments, and stray from serious medical problems too. Dogs can prevent their owners from getting sick, help them recover more quickly when they do fall ill, and they can even warn of cancer, heart attack, epileptic seizures, and hypoglycemia, says Dr. Deborah Wells from the Canine Behaviour Centre of Queens University in Northern Ireland.

Wells, whose study is published in the British Journal of Health Psychology, says dogs buffer us from stress -- a well-known cause of illness -- and promote general well-being. Owning a dog leads to increased physical activity and increases development of social interactions -- both of which minimize stress and contribute to human health.

While Wells found those who own both dogs and cats benefit from their pets, dog owners enjoy improved health for much longer than cat owners.

The overall cure rate for the 20,000 children diagnosed with cancer in the United States each year is more than 75 percent. Sounds good -- especially when 50 years ago, most children diagnosed with cancer died. But considering that only one in three childhood cancer survivors remain healthy, perhaps this is not such good news.

Thirty years after diagnosis, about 40 percent of survivors have a serious health problem and one-third have multiple problems. Strokes, heart disease, and kidney failure are just a few of the major health concerns that plague many survivors who have entered adulthood.

Doctors have long known that cancer treatments can cause new cancers later in life. But the Childhood Cancer Survivor Study -- the largest ever childhood study of its kind -- shows there are other long-term health problems. Researchers studied 10,000 survivors -- past studies examined 200-300 survivors -- and found these survivors were eight times as likely as their siblings to develop severe and life-threatening conditions. They found survivors of bone tumors, nerve and brain cancer, and Hodgkin's disease faced the highest risk.

The source of these later-in-life health problems vary. Kidney failure may result from damage caused by chemotherapy or radiation or the infections children suffer when their immune systems are weakened. Drugs used to treat infections may also be to blame. Strokes may result from head and chest radiation.

Cancer treatment for people of all ages comes with a price. We buy time, we buy life in exchange for the unknown. But for children -- who stand to live longer than adults -- there is a greater unknown. Sadly, there is a dark side to surviving cancer.

I just read a breast cancer survivor's commentary about the color pink -- about how she hates pink, is sick of seeing pink, is tired of companies capitalizing on the breast cancer color in order to sell products. She calls the color wimpy and too feminine -- and while she accepts that she may just be grumpy about this topic, she is not too happy that pink is the color that symbolizes a serious disease. She would have preferred red or purple, colors that signify strength and power. But pink is what we've got -- and I happen to be okay with it.

I'm okay with pink because I like the color. I'm okay with it because it's recognizable -- and there can't be too many people out there who don't know that pink and breast cancer go hand in hand. To me, the color itself raises awareness. If I buy a pink vacuum cleaner and am reminded of the words breast and cancer each time I suck up dirt from my carpet, then I'm in the loop -- even if minimally. And if it prompts me to check my own breasts or schedule a screening appointment, then I benefit. I'm not sure a green vacuum cleaner would have the same effect. And when I wear my new Key to the Cure t-shirt -- with a pink ribbon gracing the front -- and someone inquires about the shirt, I will have an opportunity to spread some words about breast cancer. Pink doesn't have to be wimpy. It can be powerful.

There are surely companies out there taking advantage of the color pink because it sells. But if sales truly benefit breast cancer research, then it's a win-win situation in my opinion. I am happy that $31 of my $35 t-shirt goes directly to breast cancer initiatives. Sure, the shirt was a bit expensive. But so is breast cancer -- and I have the bills to prove it -- so if simply buying a pink ribbon t-shirt allows me to walk around as a billboard and allows breast cancer research some more momentum, then I am game.

I will wear my new shirt when I run in the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer 5K event in two weeks. And I will wear a bright pink ribbon in my hair. And I may even wear pink shorts. Because I think pink is empowering. And I'm happy it's everywhere -- because it illustrates that breast cancer is everywhere. And that is not okay.

Beginning today, these words will be broadcast on various local Gainesville radio stations. These words are about breast cancer, about raising money for this serious disease, about Making Strides Against Breast Cancer, about the American Cancer Society. These words are about me. These are my words.

I'm Jacki. I'm someone you know. I'm a mother of two young sons, a wife, a sister, an aunt, a daughter, a friend. I am a freelance writer and a preschool teacher. I like to exercise and scrapbook and watch my little boys enjoy life's simple pleasures. I like pedicures, massages and candles. I'm 36 years old. I'm someone you know -- but I'm not alone.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer almost two years ago. And the American Cancer Society was instrumental in my recovery. I was comforted by their cancer programs and events, soothed by volunteers who called me at home to lend an ear, and educated by American Cancer Society literature and resources.

Join me for our Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk on Saturday, October 14th, at the North East Park in Gainesville at 7:30 a.m. to help fund breast cancer research. Visit www.cancer.org or call 1-800-ACS-2345 to learn how you can become involved. Because someone you know has breast cancer. I'm someone you know -- I'm a breast cancer survivor -- and with the American Cancer Society, I'm not alone.

I love the terminology used by those behind the scenes at Hurricane Voices. This is where I first read the words breast cancer dancer and where individuals have gathered to advance the rebellion against breast cancer. The content on this site is powerful, edgy, and truly inspiring -- it incites public action. And it makes me want to jump up and do something -- now. To break down the barriers to progress in pursuit of the causes and cures for breast cancer -- which is the whole purpose of Hurricane Voices.

Hurricane Voices began because of one woman -- Lois Egasti, a wife and mother living with metastatic breast cancer. Lois, who passed away on April 15, 2003, knew she was not alone and felt the need to take a stand against the disease. So she put her urge into action and formed this not-for-profit organization. And in just four years, a great community of voices emerged -- voices that have helped raise support and participation in far-reaching programs and events.

Hurricane Voices offers on its website a family reading list, a regular newsletter, an empowering overview of breast cancer and its statistics, and a sampling of various myths surrounding breast cancer. Hurricane Voices provides direction for involvement in unique conferences -- such as When a Parent Has Cancer: Strengthening the School's Response which helps school systems support families affected by parental cancer and Breast Cancer: Truth & Consequences, a conference that challenges the status quo concerning breast cancer. Hurricane Voices initiates thought-provoking public awareness campaigns and strives to inform the public that the disease we call breast cancer is a very serious illness.

Every day, more people are being diagnosed. Every day, more people are dying. Yet we are not beating this disease -- in fact in the time it takes to brush our teeth or drink a cup of coffee, another person has died of breast cancer. And this is what Hurricane Voices wants us to know. This and the fact that well-meaning, misconstrued survival rates in the 90 percentiles only extend for five years. And five years is just not enough.

Powerful -- that's what Hurricane Voices is -- powerful. And each of us can contribute our own power to this organization by becoming a Hurricane Voice. So speak up -- by simply clicking here.

The Beck family blogs about life in California -- about soccer games and parades and hikes and family trips. They display happy photos of their kids eating pancakes made by daddy and playing on the beach and dressing up for Halloween. And they also blog about breast cancer -- because Valerie Beck, wife and mom of two young children, was diagnosed with this disease on June 26, 2006.

Valerie is just two months into her journey and has just completed her second chemotherapy treatment. She has already survived surgery and scary pathology results and some dark moments. But Valerie will surely conquer cancer with her happy take on life, her supportive family, and her ability to go with the flow -- however unpredictable it may be. And her husband -- author of the family blog -- keeps all readers updated on Valerie's progress. He is positive, hopeful, and a bit frightened too. On July 8, he wrote:

What a past couple days, my beautiful bride Valerie, my wife, my life long partner has a serious fight in front of her. She is going to grow old with me, she is going to help me spoil our grandchildren, we will beat this! I have faith, and I believe, but I also believe you cannot hide from the awful truths, this is not a nice disease. Three of the best doctors in the world do not come rushing to your aid in ONE DAY if they thought "you will easily make it through this" (which is what it seems I am always telling Valerie). I am trying to be strong, I feel I have to be, but sitting here in front of an inanimate object I find it easier to share my inner fears. I do have faith we will make it through this ..... it just won't be easy.

It won't be easy. But it can be done. Best wishes, Beck family!

Just before my chemotherapy for breast cancer started -- when I was fantastically frightened by the toxic drugs that were about to drip into my veins -- I was told by doctors, nurses, survivors, friends that I would be just fine. I was young and strong and tough. I would easily tolerate the beating my body was about to take. This is what I was told and actually came to believe myself. I had no other choice really than to approach chemotherapy with a fighter mentality. And so I did. And I did pretty well for my first three doses of Adriamycin and Cytoxan -- given every two weeks instead of three in a dose-dense fashion -- followed by one injection of Neulasta 24 hours later to maintain normal blood counts. And then something happened. And I did not end up tolerating the chemotherapy my gut told me was a scary endeavor.

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.

Caregivers are affected by cancer in their own unique and special ways. And those of us who have never been cancer caregivers and those of us who are patients receiving the care will never really know how it feels to walk in caregiver shoes -- until we do it ourselves.

Dr. Mitchell Luftig has done it himself. And after traveling a dark and unwanted journey of caring for his wife with breast cancer, he realized that he had learned a thing or two -- and he learned that he could share a thing or two. So he wrote a book, Be a Hero To The Woman You Love When She Gets Sick, and he speaks openly about his role as caregiver -- and his role at the time as father of twin high school daughters and husband of 20 years and clinical psychologist too. The whole ordeal turned his world upside down and he hopes that his story helps others -- primarily men -- who find themselves in a lonely place with the daunting job of caring for the people they love. As a psychologist, Luftig has good insight. And he wishes to help minimize the psychological barriers that prevent men from effectively caring for loved ones during times of serious illness.

Luftig shares in his book his realization that while he cannot repair and fix all hard times, he does have some important tools. And his power tools are love, support, and understanding. He has learned to sew joy out of rough cloth. He understands that he cannot shelter his family members from bad times, but he can shoulder their burden. And he now appreciates that all things are not so bad when measured against the yardstick of a life-threatening disease like cancer. Luftig's whole collection of wisdom and lessons and advice fill his book -- and bits and pieces also appear in periodic articles in Coping magazine. It's worth the read -- and the journey starts here.

Joey has a hard time staying in bed when we put him down for the night. When we ask him why he continually gets up, he tells us that he wants to be with us -- mommy and daddy --  and that he wants to watch TV and that he's just not tired. He is five years old. And he will try anything to coax us into allowing him to stay up just a little bit longer. Lately, he's been asking serious questions he knows will take some time to answer -- like how exactly does a light bulb work? And how does lightening get in the air? And how do you build a house? Last night, his questions followed a medical path -- a cancer path really.

Inflammatory breast cancer accounts for only 1 percent of all breast cancers -- yet this disease that mostly affects young women and teenagers can be especially aggressive. And sadly, many of the symptoms  -- inflammation, irritation, itching, redness, blotching, and increase in size -- are mistaken for infection. Not until further, more serious symptoms arise does breast cancer become a possible explanation. A breast may become firmer, warmer, and may grow in size more each day. Although distinct lumps are not apparent, the skin may become dimpled and increased tenderness can occur. Large veins may surface, and cancer may spread in sheets or nests instead of from a solid tumor -- making it virtually impossible to detect a lump. While mammograms are usually ineffective for detecting this cancer, certain biopsies and MRI testing can reveal and confirm a diagnosis -- which years ago was much scarier than it is today with new studies and research and therapies that can better fight this aggressive form of cancer.

A combination of the drugs Lapatinib and Capecitabine have been used to treat inflammatory breast cancer in women who have not responded to standard therapies. And this combination is doubling the patient's survival time. Like like the drug Herceptin -- used for many young women with another aggressive form of breast cancer -- these drugs may be the innovative new approach for saving even more young women.