Way to go Wake Forest University scientists -- for adding to the body of evidence connecting stress to illness and for reporting before anyone else that the stress hormone epinephrine causes changes in prostate and breast cancer cells that may make them resistant to death.

Emotional stress contributes not only to the development of cancer, says lead researcher George Kulik, D.V.M., Ph.D, but it also reduces the effectiveness of cancer treatments.

Previous research shows levels of epinephrine, produced by the adrenal glands, are sharply increased during stressful situations and can stay elevated during long-term stress and depression.

During this study, published in the on-line Journal of Biological Chemistry, Kulik and colleagues found that a protein called BAD -- the cause of cell death -- becomes inactive when cancer cells are exposed to epinephrine.

This is huge for patients and researchers.

"It may be important for patients who have increased responses to stress to learn to manage the effects," said Kulik. "And, the results point to the possibility of developing an intervention to block the effects of epinephrine."

Lung cancer tumors in mice are shrinking -- with the help of a hormone important in the control of blood pressure.

This new discovery, led by scientists at Wake University School of Medicine, suggests some drugs used to manage blood pressure might also prevent or treat lung cancer.

This all came about when it was noticed that lung cancer rates were lower among those treated for high blood pressure with angiotensin-converting enzyme, or ACE, inhibitors. These drugs, including Capoten and Lotensin, increase levels of angiotensin-(1-7) in the bloodstream.

In studies, the angiotensin-(1-7) hormone caused a 30 percent decrease in tumor volume in mice. Tumors in mice not treated with the hormone more than doubled.

This study, published in the journal Cancer Research, is the first demonstration of the effect in animals.

Fewer women are getting mammograms. Facilities offering mammograms are closing. Mammogram machine usage is declining. And we don't really know why.

"We're heading in the wrong direction," says Carol Lee, professor of radiology at Yale University School of Medicine and chair of the American College of Radiology's commission on breast imaging.

"If this decline holds up, it will be very worrisome," she says.

"We're looking at a possible increase in deaths if we see this continue," according to Diana Balma, vice president of public policy at Susan G. Komen for the Cure.

Studies don't show which women -- rich or poor, young or old, educated or uneducated -- are skipping these critical screenings, but there are a few possible reasons for this dangerous drop.

Think about this:

Perhaps there are fewer facilities, staffed by fewer radiologists and technologists due to high lawsuit rates and modest reimbursement. This is scary -- because the number of women old enough to get screened is increasing.

Women may be missing out on all sorts of necessary medical care because of inadequate health insurance or other access problems.

Women may be choosing, for whatever reasons, not to get mammograms, despite strong public urging that women age 40 and older get screened one time every year.

And now think about this:

Recent news about declining breast cancer rates may not be all that good. It may not be that fewer women are developing breast cancer. It may simply be that fewer women are getting early diagnoses because of irregular or nonexistent screening.

I don't take for granted that I am alive. I am fully aware of it, consciously grateful for it, continually amazed by it. Before I was confronted with breast cancer, I still knew I could die -- in a car accident maybe -- but I thought chances were pretty good that I would make it to a ripe old age. Death was never at the forefront of my mind. I had no reason to believe that life could be snatched from me. And because of this, I am sure some pretty important moments slipped by me, virtually unnoticed. But now -- after a breast cancer diagnosis, surgery, chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and then more therapy, I realize life is not a guarantee for anyone. Me included. Even at age 36, I am not safe. I feel confident about my future -- and I believe cancer has left my body -- but my life has been threatened like never before. And that makes me wake up and take notice -- really notice -- the moments that are too important to take for granted.

My first baby boy starts kindergarten today. Before cancer, this still would have been a monumental day for us both. But now, after cancer, it's even bigger. Because I know of several moms who did not survive cancer long enough to see their children walk through their first classroom doors -- moms who thought, like me, that they would surely beat cancer and would see their kids off for every first day of school. So I am lucky to have made it to this day -- to witness the wonder of my sweet, shy, sensitive, challenging, demanding, loving boy as he leaves the comfort of home for the real world.

Two days ago, my littlest guy said, "Mommy, I love you and want to keep you forever." Joey -- the boy whose wisdom should guide him right through his first day of school -- said, "Danny, you can't have mommy forever. One day she will die, and you will never see her again." Fortunately, his harsh meaning was lost on three-year-old Danny who kept playing with whatever toy was occupying him at the time. But his meaning was not lost on me. He spoke the truth. And so I plan to soak up the kindergarten moment this morning -- and photograph it and write about it and cherish it for my days to come. And in two years, I hope to do it again with Danny as he starts off on the same path. With me by his side.