My hair is changing -- again. It started out perfectly straight, blond, and shoulder length. Then it came tumbling out, thanks to the chemotherapy drugs adriamycin and cytoxan. Four months later, it was back -- curly, dark, and way too short for my liking.

Over the past two years, I've grown to enjoy my hair. The longer it gets, the less curl it keeps. I like it this way. The color has grown on me too. When I look back at photos of my lighter locks, I think dark suits me better. Why do I get the feeling, though, that my hair won't be dark for long?

I still think of my hair as dark, I guess because it was once so very blond and it is so very not blond at the moment -- in my opinion anyway.

It feels like summer here in Florida. Our temps topped 86 degrees last week and this kind of heat prompts my little boys to request their favorite summertime activity: swimming.

My kids don't quite understand that the temperature outside is not the same as the temperature of unheated water. And so as soon as warm weather arrives, they dash for their suits and insist we make a trip to the neighborhood pool. I oblige, convinced they'll want to head home once they submerge their piggy toes in pure ice.

But somehow, the temperature doesn't register. They plunge right in, dunk their heads and kick and flop and float. They are happy as clams, quivering lips and all. I am happy too as I watch their joyous moments from the privacy of my lounge chair, tucked away in the shade that borders my kids' perfect playland.

Thanks to chemo, I am the mommy who hides in the shadows during any sunny event. It's been two whole years since my last dose of toxic drugs, but something about the sun and the heat and the residual effects of my infused poison causes my skin to produce red, itchy, unsightly bumps. It happened last year and already this year and I'm wondering now if this will be a life-long nuisance, if I will be seeking shade for the rest of my years.

It's all OK really. Secluding myself from the sun's rays is a pretty healthy venture. And I'm not a real pool enthusiast. Any my boys are old enough to swim independently. And it's peaceful in the shade. So I'm not bitter about this unexpected side effect of chemo -- it's called UV recall -- and I'm not complaining. I'm merely marveling at the power of the drugs that hopefully killed all the cancer in my body, the drugs that seem to creep back year after year, perhaps reminding me that in the whole scheme of things, red, itchy, unsightly bumps are not such a bad life condition.

I told my six-year-old son today that on Friday, we will attend a University of Florida gymnastics meet. Not such a big deal in and of itself but the fact that the entire meet is dedicated to the battle against breast cancer is what makes my announcement to Joey so important. You see, Joey has been my faithful companion ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago. He has been my link to all things simple. He has been my rock, my inspiration, my motivation to fight for my life.

I told Joey this sports event is a celebration of people with breast cancer, like me. And I told him everyone must wear pink, a color he knows well when it's twisted in ribbon formation. I eagerly awaited Joey's reaction to the whole pink thing, not because he has an aversion to pink but because his absolute favorite color is orange and he tends to choose this fabric selection whenever possible. But without hesitation, Joey was completely accepting of making a pink fashion statement.

I told Joey we would make shirts so we could be as pink as possible on Friday. So we bought white t-shirts and two shades of pink dye, and we will soon tie-dye our shirts for the festive occasion where both University of Florida and University of Kentucky gymnasts will wear pink leotards -- in different shades -- and where the fans will make donations to the local American Cancer Society.

Joey asked me while we shopped for our t-shirt supplies if lots of people have cancer.

"Yes," I told him, recalling a fact I had just learned -- 8.9 million Americans alive today have a history of cancer. "Lots of people have cancer."

I am not sure what this means to Joey. But I suspect his comprehension of the disease is limited to pink ribbons, bald heads, and periodic celebrations. If only cancer were that simple.

Cancer is not simple. But Joey helps me face each day with simplicity. And I can't wait to simply make a few t-shirts with him and then pack the place pink in honor of all the women who every day face the complexities of a fierce opponent.

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.