Worklife doesn't stop once you've been diagnosed with cancer. Many women have to--and want to--work during and after treatment. Cancer and Careers offers information and tools to help working women manage their battle with cancer as effectively as they manage the rest of their lives.

One great tool on the website is the paperwork section where you can find many guides including help with insurance issues, disability, financial assistance, legal assistance, health insurance and your legal rights in the workplace.

Make sure you take advantage of the Charts/Checklists section. It is amazing that cancer can actually seem like another job. Keeping your life organized with appointment logs, treatment charts and drug logs can really make life easier.

There are also many other resources on this website including emotional support, inner strength and taking charge tips.

When you are diagnosed with cancer you may experience an array of different emotions --fear, anxiety, depression, anger, worry and many others. Some cancer patients or survivors may feel alone or unable to talk to friends or family members about how they are really feeling.

Research has suggested that writing can help with the healing process after cancer. Living Beyond Breast Cancer (LBBC) is hosting a networking meeting for women affected by breast cancer called Healing with words: Writing the Breast Cancer Experience.

Alysa Cummings, MLS, CPT, of Pink Ribbon Poetry, will explain how women affected by breast cancer can use writing to heal. Attendees will hear a presentation by members of Pink Ribbon Poetry. Following the presentation, attendees can choose to share in a poetry therapy group and learn about online resources for writing their stories.

The networking meeting will be held on April 26, 2007, from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at the Cherry Hill Library in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. A light dinner and refreshments will be available after the networking event. To register for this free event, visit LBBC's website or call the office at 610-645-4567.

It does not matter what kind of cancer you have been diagnosed with, this therapy can work for anyone, you can take advantage of writing in a journal in your own home. It can help heal your mind on so many levels. Try it out. You will be pleasantly surprised at the release it can give you.

I'm sharing seven bits of wisdom this Sunday that are not my own. I am borrowing them from Pat McRee who has collected all sorts of survivor stories, affirmations, quotations, poetry, lyrics, and resources, has wrapped them with a bunch of hope and humor, and has packaged them in a box she calls Support to Go, The Unbook for the Journey through Breast Cancer.

McRee's colorful, lively box contains 80 cards. And on each card is some type of tip, idea, recipe, myth, truth, and essay that makes the breast cancer road easier to travel.

Live it. Learn it. Pass it on. That's what McRee says -- and exactly what she did when she stacked her deck of cards with such meaningful and magical material.

There is no way I could easily choose seven cards from my own box of support -- there's just too much good stuff, and it all deserves equal attention. So I drew seven random cards from the pile that sits before me, and this is what I got.

Queasy Made Easy
This card lists menu items targeted for the chemo tummy. A registered oncology nurse for 20 years, Betty Dozier shares what she has learned about what to eat -- clear, cool drinks, fruit juice, plain baked potatoes, Cold canned or fresh fruit, saltines, rice, toast, clear broths, sherbet, Popsicles -- and what not to eat -- gravy, sauces, potato chips, sour cream, heavy creamed soups.

Safety in Numbers
McRee doesn't put much stock in statistics and numbers generated by calculators that have nothing to do with real people. But she does believe in numbers when it comes to survival. On this card, she lists the names of genuine survivors with real numbers. She lists Shirley Weinman, a 20-year-survivor, Janice Johnston, an eight-year survivor, Linda Beebe, a 15-year survivor -- and so on.

No Smile Left Behind
McRee offers a prescription for play, an invitation to smile and laugh and rejoice in the face of cancer. "Cut eye holes in a paper bag and wear it to treatment," she says. "Tell 'em you just couldn't face another day." Another idea -- "Pass the word that everyone who enters the waiting room will get a Standing Ovation. They all deserve 'em just for showing up."

Fuzzy Logic
Check out this oh-so-true poem:

Too gray, too wavy, too doggone thick,
Smack in the front ... a big 'ol cowlick!
Split-ends and frizzies whenever it rained,
Now it's hard to believe I ever complained;
So, Lord, let's grow something! I'll nevermore whine ...
Gray, thick and wavy will suit me just fine.

Postcards
McRee provides a few postcards intended for mailing to surviving friends. One says, I hear you're patched, retreaded and approved for the road. Another says, U are not alone.

Hair Tomorrow
McRee offers a souvenir keeper for a lock of pre-chemo hair. Why not save it, says McRee, who shares that what grows back might be as different as your new life will be.

Buttoned-Up
Make your own buttons -- and wear them proudly. This card gives button wording ideas -- like Symmetry is so yesterday, Cancer: Been There, Beat That, and Stamp Out False Hopelessness.

Seven down -- 73 to go. I can't wait to read more.

What a gift it would be if it were possible to sleep through cancer, literally sleep through the entire experience -- from diagnosis through the end of treatment -- and wake up on the other end of the bad dream. Unfortunately, this isn't possible. We must be alert and aware and active in our own plans for survival. All we are typically permitted are now-and-then naps and nighttime sleep -- if we can manage to actually sleep at night.

My sleep was never disturbed during my cancer journey. Night after night, just after my head hit my pillow, my body drifted right to sleep -- only waking for brief trips to the bathroom and to get out of bed the next day. I might have had an occasional sleepless night. But for the most part, I count myself as one lucky cancer patient, blessed with restful and regular sleep.

Not all cancer patients are privileged sleepers. And with all I was enduring during my own cancer ordeal -- emotions, hospitalizations, treatments, side effects, and pain -- it's a wonder I was able to manage so well in the sleep department.

Sleep is critical for maintaining strength and energy while fighting cancer -- while living life in general really. When nighttime sleep is disrupted, interrupted, or downright impossible, normal functioning and healing are compromised. So the quest for good, quality sleep should make its way to the top of your cancer to-do list. And if you are not sure just how to begin such a quest, consider these seven strategies for sleeping through cancer -- compliments of Marie-Helene Savard, doctoral student in psychology, and Dr. Josee Savard, associate professor and researcher of psychology at Laval University Cancer Research Center in Quebec, Canada.

• Set aside at least one hour to relax before going to bed.
• Go to bed only when you feel sleepy -- which is not the same as fatigue.
• If you can't fall asleep or can't go back to sleep after 20 or 30 minutes, get out of bed and leave the bedroom. Do something else -- and only go back to bed when you feel sleepy again. Repeat as necessary.
• Get up at the same time every day -- regardless of how much sleep you got. Use an alarm clock to wake.
• Use your bedroom only for sleep and sexual activities. Avoid reading, working, watching TV, or listening to the radio in the bedroom.
• Avoid napping. If you must take a nap, do so before 3:00 PM and for less than one hour.
• Keep realistic expectations about sleep -- avoid worrying about the amount of sleep you should have or the amount of time it takes you to fall asleep -- and try to become tolerant of your lack of sleep.

Sweet dreams.

I really like the book I've recently been writing about -- The Journey Through Cancer: Healing and Transforming the Whole Person. And I plan to read more. And I plan to write more. But I'm at a standstill.

I haven't been reading lately. And I haven't been writing lately. Because life is getting in the way. And in my book, that's a good thing.

There was a time when it would have caused me great stress to have committed myself to something -- like reading a book and writing about it -- and to have somehow fallen short on completing the task. Stress would have caused me to make time for my commitment, to push other important tasks aside, to fulfill my self-imposed deadlines.

But ever since cancer arrived in my life and jolted me into the realization that I only have the pleasure of one day at a time, I am better at capitalizing on what's most important in my world -- my family.

I have been busy playing beauty shop with my son. The boy who once shaved my head prior to my chemotherapy fallout is now twisting my dark brown curls into one-of-a-kind styles. I have been hanging Christmas lights with my sister who really has done all the work for me. I have been watching my two boys play in the yard and skateboard down the driveway and create concoctions of dirt, water, and weeds on the front porch. I have been shopping for holiday gifts and finding all sorts of great buys for myself too. I have been playing with my niece and dining out with my husband and writing posts and sitting by a fire at night. I have not been reading.

I am perfectly content with my hiatus from reading and writing. Because enjoying my moments, on my preferred terms, is surely part of recovering from a illness that threatened to take all my moments away.

I'm not sure when I'll get back to Dr. Jeremy Geffen's book, when I will continue reading about his Seven Levels of Healing. Because at the moment, I am too busy healing myself.

To read previous posts on the same topic, visit:
The Journey Through Cancer: State-Of-The-Art-Medical Care
The Journey Through Cancer: Beverly Is Every One of Us
The Journey Through Cancer: What Is The Purpose Of Medicine
The Journey Through Cancer: Introduction
Sunday Seven: Seven Levels of Healing on Cancer Journey

Stay tuned for an eventual post about:
The Journey Through Cancer: Level One -- Education and Information

My own oncologist did it just two days ago. He checked in on my mental health, asked how I was surviving, and eased my fear of cancer recurrence and possible death. He reached beyond the medical scope of our relationship -- literally. He placed a hand on my shoulder. He offered me a hug. He cared.

Yet many doctors refrain from reaching too far into the lives of the patients they treat. They stay at a distance. They focus on merely replacing illness with health. This is, after all, the purpose of medicine -- to fix people.

Dr. Jeremy Geffen, author of The Journey Through Cancer: Healing and Transforming the Whole Person, shares in his book that "at present, doctors focus primarily on the physical characteristics of their patients -- bones and organs, tissue samples, test results, height, weight, and age. Yet in each of us, there is a rich mental, emotional, and spiritual reality that influences, even directs the course of our lives."

Conventional medicine responds to cancer patients with surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and other treatment protocols to essentially get rid of the cancer. Physical signs, symptoms, and responses are carefully monitored -- while other areas of patients' lives receive little attention.

A whole component of true medical care is missing -- as doctors may feel unprepared to address emotional issues, and time restraints allow for limited interaction between doctor and patient.

Geffen believes the ultimate purpose of medicine is to help all beings "experience unbounded love, joy, and inner peace, and to know this is the essence of who we truly are." This purpose, he believes, deserves as much attention as the purpose of treating symptoms and curing disease.

And so Geffen created a program based on his Seven Levels of Healing -- a program that includes both the relative and ultimate purposes of medicine, both the doing and the being.

Level One: Education and Information -- provides basic information about cancer and treatment options and encourages patients to actively participate in and obtain benefit from their care.

Level Two: Connection with Others -- explores the importance of reaching out to others for comfort and support on the journey through cancer.

Level Three: The Body as Garden -- invites patients and family members to see the human body as growing and evolving, as a complex garden rather than a machine. This level touches on good nutrition, exercise, massage, acupuncture, and a variety of complementary and alternative approaches to healing.

Level Four: Emotional Healing -- enters the realm of the human heart, shedding light on fear, pain, anger, self-love, and forgiveness.

Level Five: The Nature of Mind -- examines how life with cancer is influenced by our thoughts, beliefs, and the meanings we give events.

Level Six: Life Assessment -- delves into aspirations, goals, and purposes of our lives.

Level Seven: The Nature of Spirit -- embraces the spiritual aspects of the healing process.

As a physician, Geffen aims to bring his vision of medicine and healing to cancer patients everywhere. And he uses his book as an instrument of communication -- so readers can participate in his vision, so they can learn to settle for nothing less than medical care that centers on the whole person. And not just the parts.

To read previous posts on the same topic, visit:
The Journey Through Cancer: Introduction
Sunday Seven: Seven Levels of Healing on Cancer Journey

Stay tuned for:
The Journey Through Cancer: Beverly Is Every One Of Us

Singer and songwriter Jewel sat down with ABC News This Week's George Stephanopoulos to discuss her support of a bill that will allow women to stay in the hospital at least 48 hours after a mastectomy. Called drive-thru mastectomies, the current practice of discharging women hours after surgery does not allow women sufficient time to heal before being released from the hospital.

During the interview Jewel placed the blame on insurance companies and HMOs who have decided that a mastectomy is not major surgery but an outpatient procedure. You have got to be kidding me, what an absurdity.

As Jewel stated, "This certainly isn't a merely feminist issue. This is about the care of our loved ones."

I don't see it as much a feminist issue as simply a matter of compassionate, and in this case, safe health care of mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters. The obnoxious practice of bean counters to decide that any major surgery is an outpatient procedure to save on health care expenses has been going on far too long.

Jewel will travel to Washington to help deliver 12 million signatures to Congress to support a health care bill that requires insurance companies and HMOs to cover the cost of proper care for women undergoing mastectomy. The VOICES: Jewel Lobbies for Breast Cancer Bill interview is available as video for viewing online.

The tunnel was long. And dark. And winding. And foggy. And ominous. It seemed to last forever -- at the time -- and at moments, time seemed to stand still. I was not sure if I'd ever pass through it and be okay -- if I'd ever see the light at the end. But I did. I tunneled through it all -- somehow -- and I came out feeling more alive than ever before. Now, some time after my escape from the fog, I am already taking for granted the fact that I am breathing, that I am healthy, that I am living. And when my fitness trainer noticed yesterday that I do not get dizzy and lightheaded anymore during my workouts -- when I once had to sit down, breathe, collect my whereabouts -- I realized that some of my progress since exiting my breast cancer tunnel is already lost on me. And I don't want to lose sight of where I was and how far I've come. I want to remember it and measure it and never forget how alive I am at this very moment. So I have started to really think about how things have changed since I felt stuck in time, in a dark place. I am thinking about my times in a hospital bed when I was barely able to stand up, barely able to walk a few steps without feeling like I would collapse. Now I can hop out of bed at a moment's notice, half asleep in response to a demanding child screaming from his bed. I am thinking about my once challenging pre-cancer exercise routine and how a time came when my legs felt so heavy I could not even contemplate walking down my street. Yesterday, I completed an hour of weight training. Today I ran for 20 minutes. Tomorrow, I go back for more weight training. And I remember feeling incoherent, unable to conjure of meaningful thoughts or sentences. And now, despite some potential chemo brain forgetfulness, I am back on track.

I have only just touched the surface. There is so much more to reflect on. So I plan to think more about my travels so I can better appreciate how I arrived at the exact place where I am right now -- where it's light and clear, where time passes at normal speed, where I feel lucky to be alive.