Listed here are three organizations that set a strong example to help the cause of cancer research:

Men With Heart --Their mission as seen on their website:

We are husbands who are doing something constructive rather than resigning ourselves to helplessness. We are sons who have seen our mothers courageously fight an insidious disease. We are brothers who want to stand beside our sisters in this battle. We are relatives, friends, lovers, colleagues, neighbors, and admirers of the women who are struggling with, often beating, and, regrettably, sometimes losing the fight with breast cancer.

We do our best to raise awareness, funds, and smiles. We participate in a variety of breast cancer events, wearing our trademark yellow shirts, including the Avon 2-Day Walks, the Komen 3-Day Walks, and the American Cancer Society Making Strides Walk. We walk with the goals of spreading good cheer, encouraging a spirit of camaraderie, and helping our fellow walkers. We also host a gala party every year and a racing event in the fall. We support and get involved with a variety of other breast cancer causes, organizations, and events.

Since our inception in 2001, Men With Heart has raised over $600,000 for breast cancer prevention, treatment, and awareness.

Men Against Breast Cancer -- The MABC mission is to provide targeted support services to educate and empower men to be effective caregivers when breast cancer strikes the family of a loved one: as well as target and mobilize men to be active participants in a fight to eradicate breast cancer as a life threatening disease.

MABC recognizes breast cancer is a family issue that devastates the entire family. Our philosophy is to leverage the support of the whole family to help the patient, with special emphasis on the important role of the husband/partner in caring for the woman he loves. At the same time, MABC recognizes and supports that the ultimate decisions regarding treatment and care are those of the patient.

Together in Breast Cancer Survival: A Men's Caregiver Support Group --Their mission to be a presence that will give you the support and tools you will need to be a proactive and informed caregiver to your loved one. Our goal is to be here for you as you journey with your loved one through the cancer diagnosis, surgery, prognosis, recovery and beyond.

My husband heard this song yesterday on the radio and I wanted to share the lyrics. You can listen to Craig Morgan here singing Tough.

She's in the kitchen at the crack of dawn
Bacon's on, coffee's strong
Kids running wild, taking off their clothes
If shes a nervous wreck, well it never shows
Takes one to football and one to dance
Hits the Y for aerobics class
Drops by the bank, stops at the store
Has on a smile when I walk through the door
The last to go to bed, she'll be the first one up
And I thought I was tough

Chorus
She's strong, pushes on, can't slow her down
She can take anything life dishes out
There was a time
Back before she was mine
When I thought I was tough

We sat there five years ago
The doctors let us know
She'd have to fight to live, I broke down and cried
She held me and said it's gonna be alright
She wore that wig to church
Pink ribbon pinned there on her shirt
No room for fear, full of faith
Hands held high singing Amazing Grace
Never once complained, refusing to give up
And I thought I was tough

Chorus
She's strong, pushes on, can't slow her down
She can take anything life dishes out
There was a time
Back before she was mine
When I thought I was tough

She's a gentle word, the sweetest kiss
A velvet touch against my skin
I've seen her cry, I've seen her break
But in my eyes, she'll always be strong

There was a time
Back before she was mine
When I thought I was tough

Oh no. I think I 'm headed for melanoma. At the very least, I seem to have a very high risk for developing the disease, thanks to my once-stubborn pursuit of a silly tan.

Think about this:

A review of seven different studies concludes that using a tanning bed under the age of 35 -- I'm so guilty -- can increase the risk of melanoma by 75 percent. Even those who have ever used indoor tanning were 15 percent more likely to develop the disease.

We're talking the deadliest form of skin cancer here. So deadly some experts are recommending strong measures to restrict the use of tanning beds by young people. Adults should be discouraged from tanning, some say, but access should be limited for those under the age of 18.

New Jersey already has regulations in place -- those under 14 are banned from tanning salons and anyone between 14 and 18 must have parental consent.

If I could turn back time, I would listen to my grandma. She told me the sun -- and tanning beds too -- were no good. But I was young. And I didn't care.

Now I'm older. And I care. But it may be too late. It seems this could be one lesson I learn the hard way.

Valerie Monroe, beauty director for The Oprah Magazine, writes a monthly column -- Ask Val -- that appears on the pages of Oprah's feel-good publication. She responds to questions about make-up, skin care, hair care, and overall body care too.

In her February 2007 column, Val writes, "Many of you have written to tell me that you began to be less critical of your body when you appreciated the things it could do." As I read this, I had what Oprah would call an Aha! moment, a moment when something just clicks and makes sudden sense. Aha!, I thought, as I considered all the things my body can do, completely independent of how I look on the outside. So while I was jogging today -- my body can now easily run three miles -- I ran through all of my body's accomplishments, and I stored them in the files of my mind so I could later write them down.

Here are seven things my body can do. As you read them, consider your own body -- its strength, its power, its capacity for greatness -- and remind yourself of your wondrous self the next time you start to criticize the way you look.

• My body can partner in the creation of human life. It can carry babies and deliver them and love them and care for them and raise them. Not all bodies have this power. I am lucky.

• My body can climb an attic staircase, crawl into cramped and dark corners, pull large boxes out of wedged spaces, drag them back to the staircase, and walk backwards down the stairs with goods balancing on my head so that I can fulfill the wish my five-year-old child who wanted so badly in early November to assemble our Christmas tree and decorate our house for the holidays. "Let's wait until Daddy gets home," I told Joey when I found myself crammed into a tiny space in the attic, wrestling with a heavy box full of artificial tree parts. "You can do it, Mommy," Joey said. "You are strong." And so I fought my way through the frustrating feat because I was afraid of the lessons I would teach this little boy if I didn't. In the end, it was Joey who taught me the lesson. I can do it. I am strong.
  

• My body can endure and conquer a 5K run when it once could barely run around the block. With a little extra effort and push, I think my body can accomplish even more.

• My body, once weak and without definition, can lift increasingly heavy weight and can generate muscle tone. It can even do push-ups -- real push-ups. It takes dedication and practice and persistence and mental toughness too. But I see progress. I feel progress. And I want more.

• My body can help others. I can use my fingers to type words on a keyboard that will reach friends and family and people I don't even know. My words can inform and support and encourage and heal. I can use my hands and my semi-creative talents to create hand-made gifts, to cook and deliver very mediocre meals for friends in need, to massage my husband's sore back, to braid my niece's beautiful hair and paint her tiny nails. I can use my arms to hug my little boys with all my might. I can use my voice to communicate, my ears to listen, my senses to feel.
  

• My body can tolerate surgery and chemotherapy and radiation and horrible allergic reactions to antibiotics. My body was badly beaten by a treatment protocol intended to cure me of a disastrous disease. And somehow, in some way, it survived.
  

• My body killed cancer. With the aid of medical intervention and a hopeful attitude, my body overcame the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. And if it could do nothing else, I would be truly happy for this one thing my body can do.
  

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.

While Anaia Bedford, wife of Emmy award winning photographer Ken Bedford, underwent chemotherapy and radiation for breast cancer, both Anaia and Ken conducted research and asked many questions of experts. According to what they learned, early detection, a healthy diet, exercise and a strong immune system are the keys to breast cancer survival and that "breast cancer awareness and education among African American and other minority women in general is vital because there is a lack of medical attention due to financial hardships, spousal rejection fears and being so terrified that the disease will take their lives."

Anaia felt that had she been diagnosed earlier, her chances of survival would have been greater. Anaia lost her struggle to survive breast cancer in 2004.

The Anaia Breast Cancer Awareness Program was founded by her family to increase breast cancer awareness and promote early detection in minority communities. As a tribute to Anaia and to educate women about breast cancer, an annual gala is hosted at the Galleria Marchetti in Chicago. This year's keynote speaker was Dancing with the Stars Vivica A. Fox. Governor Rod Blagojevich, Mayor Richard Daley, Angela Winbush, Phil Perry, Glenn Jones, Howard Hewett and jazz Sax Man Ray Silkman also attended the event.

Anaia believed "Knowledge is power, the more you know and understand will reduce many of the fears and myths you hear about breast cancer." Her family and friends are continuing the cause of raising breast cancer awareness Anais felt was important to surviving cancer. To learn more, visit the Anaia Breast Cancer Awareness Program.

I just ran three miles on my treadmill. I have never been the athletic one in my family. My sister is the one who was born with the athletic streak -- she played softball and lettered in tennis after giving the sport a try with no previous experience and may have helped her high school basketball team win a state championship if it weren't for the major knee injury she suffered just before the big game. I, on the other hand, was born with a streak that has something to do with hair, nails, and lots of shoes. I was never interested in sports, gym shorts, or sweating -- which is what makes running three miles a big deal for me.

I wish I had started running long ago -- because I really like it. I like the loud music that pumps through my MP3 player and the change in my cadence as each new song begins. I like the motivation of knowing I'm pushing my body and accomplishing a physical challenge. I like that my endurance improves with each mile I travel. I like the mental release and the thoughts that run through my head and the cleansing effect I get from running. And I like sweating.

It's possible running would not have appealed to me long ago, even if I had given it a try -- because times were different long ago. I was healthy. I was happy. And I had no reason to marvel at the possibilities of my body. Without a natural impulse for physical fitness and challenge, I was completely satisfied with the status quo. But now I have an acquired impulse -- because cancer has threatened the very body I once took for granted. And I want it to be strong. I want it to be healthy. I want it to stand up to any possible threat. So I run. And when I am not running, I look forward to running.

In just a few weeks, I will run in the 5K Making Strides for Breast Cancer event with my athletic sister. I will run by her side. With my loud music for motivation. With the inspiration that I am making a difference for my body and for women everywhere. With my gym shorts on. And a ball cap covering my hair. With sweat dripping down my face. I can't imagine a better feeling.

I have a cabinet full of supplements I've never taken. I've never been convinced they will do much for me -- other than add an easy-to-forget routine to my day -- and doctors have typically advised me that a healthy diet will deliver just about everything I need for optimal functioning. I still wonder sometimes if I get enough calcium and at times I have taken iron supplements when doctors have determined I lacked appropriate iron levels. But I have never wondered about all the other pills and powders and liquids that claim to promote health -- and sometimes prevent cancer. And after reading a recap of a study in the September 2006 Oprah magazine, I am further convinced that supplements are just not for me.

A report from ConsumerLab.com (CL), a company that tests and certifies supplements, suggests that some people might be ingesting too much lead as they try to keep cancer at bay. CL randomly selected various green tea preparations from store shelves, websites, and direct marketers and found that two out of four contained what is considered unacceptable levels of lead. Green tea products they recommend avoiding are Futurebiotics Premium Extract Standardized Green Tea tablets and Herbal Select Standardized Green Tea Extract. Products found to be totally free of lead are Life Extension Mega Green Tea Extract, Nature's Bounty Green Tea Extract, Pharmanex Tegreen 97, and Puritan's Pride Green Tea Extract.

Experts believe that some supplements may help prevent cancer. But most testing is done on food so we can't be entirely sure about the safety of supplements. Their advice is this -- make a change through a healthy diet rather than supplements. This is just what I plan to do.

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!

After my breast cancer diagnosis, I received endless offers from friends and family who offered to help me. I was offered meals, babysitting, errands, escorts to appointments, and two faraway friends even told me they would hop on a plane in an instant to come stay with me. I accepted a tiny bit of help -- like a meal here and there and a morning of babysitting -- but I really did not want much assistance. Mostly because I am do-it-myself type of person and however unhealthy this can be -- especially in the midst of a health crisis -- I wanted my life to remain as normal as possible. And if that meant taking care of my kids, despite nausea and fatigue, I wanted to do it. I wanted to be the one in the driver's seat on my way to treatments and procedures. And I wanted to run my own errands. Part of me believed that accepting help meant I was really sick. And I couldn't admit that. Yet it was true. I was sick. I needed help.

And I need help now too -- while I am healthy and strong and able to do everything for myself. And maybe that's why I am able to ask for it -- because it doesn't require my confession that something in my life is not alright. And actually, asking for this type of help helps me express that I am really okay, that I am able to use my health to help others.

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.

Lynne began her blog on August 6 -- one week ago and two months after she endured surgery to clear a clogged bile duct and received the grim and frightening diagnosis of gallbladder cancer. Her cancer is stage IV -- not an uncommon staging for a hard-to-detect disease that many will only survive for two to six months. So Lynne is scared but still strong and hopeful and full of faith. Her goal is to live -- not die -- with cancer, even though her days may be numbered. So Lynne blogs her thoughts and fears and all the bits and pieces of information she gathers about a disease that is rare and resources that are scare. It helps her. And it will surely help others. And here is a glimpse into what she shared in her first post.

If you had only six months or a year to live, would you want to know? What would you do with the information? Would it make a difference in how you lived your life? These are questions I have been asking for the past two months. In asking them, I have also noticed how little guidance there is for this process. Who have I known personally who was able to anticipate their death? I can think of only two individuals, and I never asked them whether or not they were living differently in their awareness of their mortality.

So, those are the themes in this blog. I look forward to a dialog with those I know, and those I don't about this strange, life changing journey.

To Lynne -- and to all others who are faced with the disease -- may you find peace and comfort and strength in every step you take, every direction you follow, every path that becomes your road to recovery.

The bikini turns 60 this month and makes news not just for its birthday but also for its new feature -- a built-in alarm to warn wearers to get out of the sun. Not all bikinis will talk -- but those made by Canadian company Solestrom will. Solestrom has created a new bikini that goes on sale next month with a UV meter built into its belt and an alarm that sounds when it's time to seek shade. The meter on the $190 bikini displays a level of UV intensity on a scale from 0 to 20. Three to five is moderate strength, eight to 10 is very high, and anything above 11 is extreme. A person's sensitivity to UV depends mainly on skin type so this scale operates in general terms.

Despite increasing awareness of the sun's dangers, sales remain strong for the bikini. So Solestrom developed this suit to ease some of the worries about the sun's damaging rays. They have already been met with high demand from Australia and South Africa -- where skin cancer rates are highest. The United States -- now in the loop too -- has about 1 million new skin cancer cases each year.

I visited a neighbor yesterday who has breast cancer. She has had one dose of chemotherapy and just yesterday shaved her head. I stopped by to see her new hairstyle and to give her a gift -- a collection of goodies including a hat, some Healing Garden bath lotions and sprays, a flower pen I made, and a card reminding her that like me, she will survive the madness of breast cancer treatment and will go on to enjoy a full head of hair again. And while our travels will be similar in some ways, they are also very different.  You see, Gayle had a mastectomy and I did not. So I can't relate to the emotion that comes from losing a breast and feeling lopsided and searching for a bathing suit to mask the unevenness and waiting for reconstruction that won't take place until after chemotherapy is complete. But Gayle is one strong woman and while I know she will have dark moments at times, her attitude and spirit is remarkable. I went to visit her thinking I could spread some hope her way and I walked away with a dose of hope from her -- a woman new to this journey yet full of courage and strength and bravery.

Gayle, 33 years old, a wife, and mom of two small boys, told me she will go to work tomorrow with a bald head -- she is not interested in cover-ups -- and this makes her an exceptional person in my book. I never did bare my baldness to the world and kept it covered until my new hair was growing back. I admire Gayle -- and all the women who display their heads like badges of honor -- because she is a true survivor. And one who just might teach me a thing or two.