Liver cancer experts attribute the rise in HCC, a highly aggressive cancer sometimes called hepatoma, to an increase decades ago in chronic infection with hepititis C & B and also chronic alcohol consumption. Worldwide liver cancer affects 700,000 people with 18,000 Americans diagnosed in 2006 and over 19,000 estimated to be diagnosed in 2007. The increase of this disease in the United States has doubled in one decade and over 16,000 people are estimated to die from the disease this year.

The rise in the United States is expected to increase. There are now 1.4 million people in the United States infected with HBV and 4 million are infected with HCV. Growing evidence suggests two other diseases now increasingly common in the United States to have significant risk factors for primary liver cancer. Diabetes and obesity.

HCC typically does not have any symptoms until its later stages which makes it difficult to diagnose. Traditional chemo does not treat the disease with much success and liver transplants or resection surgeries are needed. One reason why donors are very important in fighting this disease. When signs and symptoms do arise they might include weight loss, fatigue, pain in the upper right abdomen that may extend to the back and shoulder, feeling full after small meals, accumulation of fluid in the abdomen, nausea, loss of appetite, and jaundice.

Breast cancer survivor Catherine West was married to her husband, Jason, in a very public ceremony in May. The couple beat out 450 other couples battling in the ESPN Marriage Madness competition and celebrated with sports fans everywhere their beautiful union, inspired not only by their love for one another but also by the one-year anniversary of Catherine's double mastectomy for breast cancer.

What fans didn't know at the time of the wedding was that Catherine knew in her heart something was very wrong. And just after she returned from her Indianapolis 500 honeymoon, Catherine learned her breast cancer had returned.

The 37-year-old from Jupiter, Florida underwent three more surgeries, chemotherapy, and radiation and is happy to report her treatment is complete. She is also certain breast cancer came to her life -- twice -- so she could make a difference.

"This happened to me so I could help other people,'" said West, who volunteers her time for the West Palm Beach Race for the Cure, a 5K walk and run sponsored by Susan G. Komen For The Cure.

Angela Lemke was a young woman of 33 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and she went through a range of emotions in the challenges of cancer surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation. She speaks about feeling sick -- physically, mentally and emotionally. Lemke admits she felt shame and embarrassment at no longer fitting in and looking different after chemotherapy hair loss.

Lemke became frustrated at the hair loss alternatives available, and with her sister-in-law, designed the Inspired by You Ponytail Hat. She loved wearing it as it made her feel like her old self again. Lemke now offers individually created ponytail hats for other women experiencing chemotherapy hair loss. At the time of purchase, a woman can choose from over 288 variable combinations in creating a customized ponytail hat.

You can find out more about Lemke's ponytail hats and create one of your own online at her website. At Inspired by You the motto is: Hope Matters ... Courage Counts!

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.