As soon as I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I started reading, researching, and investigating. I hunted down every bit of information I could find about the disease that had somehow tunneled through my breast tissue. What I found kept me in the know. I felt informed and in control -- and a bit skittish too.

My doctor once told me to stop reading. It was causing me too much worry, too much unnecessary stress. And while I didn't stop reading altogether, I did cut down on my Internet research. Since anyone can post anything on the Internet, it can be an iffy source of information. So iffy that some doctors -- like mine -- have expressed concern.

Doctors may be able to breathe a sigh of relief, though. According to a study published in the April issue of the International Journal of Medical Informatics, using the internet generally convinces patients that their doctors are right on track with their medical opinions.

Source: MAMM magazine, May/June 2007

When you're knee deep in the mess of stress, anxiety, disappointment, panic, fear -- you name it -- isn't it nice to escape for a moment, to feel relief from the burden of heavy emotion? I think so. And I happen to know from personal experience a few techniques that have a calming effect on the most overworked of minds. I'll make it brief, because I know reading volumes of self-help advice is not what's on your worried mind.

• Listen to a favorite song, or any song. It will shift your focus and put your mind in the context of the song. You may even feel recharged and motivated.

• Write down your thoughts. Just write. Don't worry about grammar, spelling, or sentence formation. Just jot down what's on your mind. Transfer your emotion to paper -- or the computer screen -- and see how relieved you can feel.

I had no idea my February 10 post Some children's bath products linked to cancer would spark such great debate. At the very moment I write, the post has received more than 64,000 hits and 70 comments.

I must admit when the comments started rolling in, I was a bit nervous. Even though I merely reported the facts on this topic, had no claim to any of the information, and didn't even share my opinion on the matter, the highly charged words written by so many well-meaning readers made me feel a bit like I was caught in the middle, like I started an argument and needed to jump back in, sort things out, and create harmony among those responding to my words.

But then I realized debate is not such a bad thing. It sheds light on all sorts of valid viewpoints. It educates. It raises awareness. And that's what cancer causes are all about.

Having read all the comments that now are officially assigned to this one post, I am so much more enlightened than when I summarized the story I came across revealing that some bath products contain a bit too much of a chemical called 1,4-dioxane, a probable human carcinogen that is already known to cause cancer in animals.

All I really knew at the time I wrote the post is that the FDA has no regulation over this chemical and that cosmetic companies must monitor themselves. Some don't do such a good job, and herein lies the debate.

Some readers say big deal, what's the harm really in a little extra dash of chemical in a whole tub of water. Perhaps if our children soaked all day for many days in this chemical, cancer might strike. But a quick bath with a tiny trace of 1,4-dioxane is not likely to do any harm. One reader wrote that we shouldn't stress so much about headlines that scare us into believing everything causes cancer, that we'll probably live a whole lot longer just living our lives free of constant worry.

Another camp of readers say a little bit of something bad is still too much. Over the course of a lifetime, how do we know our children won't pay for our mistaken belief that this hype is just -- hype. Some cancer surviving readers wonder if their cancer was caused by their plentiful childhood bubble baths. And some go to great lengths to find natural, organic, chemical-free products, whatever the financial cost.

A few consultants for these natural products left their own comments, claiming to help those consumed with anxiety. Others scolded these business people for capitalizing on the fears of others with products that have not been proved any safer.

There are advocates of moderation who wrote. And individuals seeking more information. And people who located resources for others to investigate.

There is indeed a rich commentary on the link between bath products and cancer that follows one short post I wrote late one night, after my own children were bathed -- with Dove soap and generic shampoo -- and put to bed. And I am indeed happy to know my small contribution on the topic has generated such a powerful windfall of thought and concern.

On December 8, 2006, I wrote about a Danish study investigating the possible link between cell phone use and cancer. This largest-ever study of it's kind put fears to rest. Cell phones do not cause cancer, said researchers who announced that cell phone users -- even long-term users -- are at no more risk of developing cancer than their non-cell phone using counterparts.

There's just no biological basis for concern about radio waves, reported the lead investigator of this study. But another newer study reports something entirely different.

Long-term mobile phone users are more likely to develop cancer -- brain cancer, on the side of the head where the phone is held -- according to the Radiation and Nuclear Safety Authority in Finland. It will all be detailed later this year in the International Journal of Cancer, but the general gist of the study is already circulating.

The study -- the second one to suggest an increased risk of cancer due to emissions from cell phones -- found that people who regularly used cell phones for more than 10 years were 40 percent more likely to develop nervous system tumors called gliomas. Comparisons were made between 1,521 people with gliomas and 3,301 people without the tumors. While no connections were initially made between the phones and cancer, a link was found when researchers specifically focused on those who had used their phones for more than 10 years.

Short-term use of cell phones has never been linked to cancer. That's good. But I tend to believe cell phones are going to become even more a staple of our technologically-driven lives than they are now. And so 10 years may actually be considered short-term one day -- which means we all may soon be at risk.

For now, until research becomes more conclusive, we get to pick and choose which study to stand behind. So take your pick -- and stay tuned for future scientific revelations.

From houseplants to raised beds, to plant a seed, tend the soil, and watch a plant grow is one of the most inspiringly hopeful of activities. In hopefulness is found a kind of healing. According to the American Horticultural Therapy Association, horticulture therapy is defined as "a process utilizing plants and horticultural activities to improve social, educational, psychological and physical adjustment of persons thus improving their body, mind, and spirit." The American Cancer Society offers a list of some of horticulture therapy benefits one can expect from gardening that include:

• Feelings of hope.
• Stress reduction.
• Social interaction.
• Pain relief.
• Improved muscle tone, flexibility, and cardiopulmonary capability.
• Creativity and self-expression.
• Enhanced self-esteem and improved mood.
• Motor skill development.
  

As the New Year arrives, so do the gardening catalogs in the mail. Interested in receiving gardening catalogs but not certain where to start? Cyndi's Catalog of Garden Catalogs lists over 2,000 mail-order gardening catalogs for the home gardener.

Two of my favorite gardening websites and online catalogs are found at Seeds of Change and Seed Savers Exchange.

At Seeds of Change, you can find garden seeds, seed collections, cover crops, seedlings, fruit trees, garden tools, kitchen items, and a bookstore. All organic. In addition, Seeds of Change publishes a newsletter.

Seed Savers Exchange is a nonprofit organization that saves and shares heirloom seeds. According to Seed Savers Exchange, "Our organization is saving the world's diverse, but endangered, garden heritage for future generations by building a network of people committed to collecting, conserving and sharing heirloom seeds and plants, while educating people about the value of genetic and cultural diversity."

But, wherever you start, once you catch the gardening bug, you will understand why horticulture therapy is becoming an integrated part in healing programs adopted at some of the medical centers across the country.

Heavy head. Heavy body. Sore throat. Sore gums. Swollen lymph nodes. Fever blister. Hurts to chew. Hurts to swallow. Hurts to recall last time symptoms appeared. During chemotherapy.

Drugs attacking cells. Body weak. Blood counts plummeting. Body crashing. Headache. Fever. Sore throat. Sore gums. Trip to hospital. For five days. For antibiotics. For opinions. For constant monitoring. For daily shots to rebuild blood.

Phone call to dentist who knows my burden. Of worry. And fear. And anxiety. That never really goes away. Always reappears. A virus, he says. All of it. The throat. The gums. The lymph nodes. The fever blister. Nothing more. Should last five to seven days. Don't worry. Relax. Call if it gets worse.

Feeling better. Feeling emotional. Because people are so kind. Like my dentist. Who eased my mind. Soothed my soul.

Time to march forward. For myself. For today.

Normal! That was the first word out of my oncologist's mouth when he called me last night. I was wondering if he would decide to call me even if everything was fine. Since I haven't gotten the tumor markers done in three years, I figure the man had to be curious.

I was thinking to myself last night before he called that I wanted him to care, not so much about what happens to me, but care about getting me the results as soon as possible. I know I'm not his only patient and he is a busy man but I don't want to be just a number either, someone easily forgotten when I leave the office. My husband says that is definitely not the case because I have made myself known in that office. Hmmm.. what could he possibly mean by that? I ask a lot of questions, show up when I don't have appointments, refuse to do blood work, yell at the callous receptionist in front of the whole waiting room, cry a lot..etc.

I'm lucky that I have the oncologist that I do. I feel like he does know me and that is so important.

Cynthia Yousefi is a wife and mother of three living in Granada Hills, CA. She is 42 years old and works as an analyst for a Federal agency. She and her family enjoy trips to Harrah's Rincon Casino in San Diego -- and while the destination is a favorite, the sights along the way also bring them pleasure. Cynthia enjoys museums and amusement parks and swimming and evening walks. She enjoys a lot these days because she feels she's been given a second chance at life -- now that she is surviving breast cancer.

Since 1988, Wendy Chioji has been a reporter and anchorwoman for WESH 2 News in Orlando, Florida. She has covered news ranging from the pope's visit to Cuba in 1998 to the Olympic Winter Games in Salt Lake City in 2002. She continuously covered last year's hurricanes, and she has an Emmy award under her belt for a special news report on heroin use.

Wendy is a top notch athlete. She has run five marathons and competed in several triathlons and half-ironman races. She has ridden in parts of several stages of the Tour de France, and traveled across the country with Lance Armstrong in 2003 -- covering 550 miles -- with the Tour of Hope event to raise awareness for cancer research. Wendy has also made a tour with stage II breast cancer. Since 2001, she has been surviving this disease.

I didn't know what was coming when I plopped myself down in the waiting room of an Ear, Nose, and Throat clinic yesterday -- which is a good thing. Had I known what doctors would do to me, I may have run the other way. I may have learned to live with the pain I was experiencing each time I swallowed food. But I waited patiently, aware that doctors would "scope" my esophagus, mildly certain the procedure could be uncomfortable, completely unprepared for the full "scope" experience.

I swallowed a pill on Friday night -- not even a whole pill, just a half of one pill -- and it hurt when it went down my throat. I've had the feeling before, a sensation like the pill got stuck, but the discomfort has always gone away within a few hours. This time, it lasted. It hurt to swallow saliva. It hurt to swallow food. It just hurt. So after three days, I took myself to the clinic -- with the subtle worry that cancer was settling in my esophagus.

I know rationally that every ache and pain I experience is not cancer. But I've had cancer. And so I constantly battle a nagging fear lodged deep in my head that reminds me cancer is always a possibility, that cancer is often a shocking outcome of a routine little test for a simple little health concern.

I do not have cancer. I do not have cancer of the throat, voice box, esophagus, or stomach. That's the good news. The scope revealed -- via a tiny camera that traveled through my body -- nothing but healthy tissue. That makes me happy. The test did not make me happy.

I now know the scope is a long, thin tube that enters the body through one nostril. Ouch. It travels into the throat. Ouch. The patient swallows when it reaches the throat to assist in maneuvering it down further. Ouch. The scope then makes its way past the voice box, though the esophagus, and into the stomach. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. The travels are all displayed on a monitor, and I actually got a glimpse of these body parts -- during the split second when I was able to control my gagging, loosen my grip on the arms of the exam chair, and open my clinched eyes. So I saw for myself that everything looks healthy -- just before the tube was pulled right back through all these parts, leaving me with a very sore throat.

Now that I am home and have talked with a few people, I hear that some patients are unconscious for this procedure. They are completely unaware of the horrors of the scope. I got a few sprays to numb my nose and throat and drank a thick cocktail of lidocaine -- but I did not get the luxury of unconsciousness. And in the end that is okay. I got to see what was happening. I got to hear the doctor's revelation that nothing major is wrong. I got to witness the wonder of medical technology. I got to prove to myself that I can handle a little discomfort in exchange for a clean bill of health. And I got to learn that I have a bit of acid reflux. And now I have to squash that nagging fear that reminds me of the literature out there suggesting a link between acid reflux and cancer.

When a question or concern or worry related to breast cancer pops into my head, I typically find myself parked in front of my computer in search of instant answers, instant comfort, instant wisdom. There are several different websites I consult -- each one different from the others, each one complementing the others. They are my reference tools, my handbooks, my encyclopedias. They offer me a clear picture of a confusing, cloudy disease. And here they are -- seven super websites that have been become staples in my life.

Adriene Hughes was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after her 44th year of living. She found her lump after participating in a 5K walk, which for some reason, caused her breast to swell. The swelling led her to the lump -- and that's how she discovered her cancer. Adriene lives in Southern California, works as a media specialist, and spends her time taking photographs, knitting, and baking cookies and breads.

I have never met Adriene, have never spoken with Adriene. But we have communicated through our on-line journals and through e-mail ever since November 2004 -- when we each received a breast cancer diagnosis that changed the course of our lives forever.

Adriene is a gem, a treasure, a true inspiration. And here are her words.

Breast cancer is widespread -- so widespread that most of us have direct personal contact with someone living with this disease. Information about breast cancer is also widespread -- so widespread that it's easy to get lost in the maze of details that define this illness that two million women in the United States are living with at this very moment. Breast cancer has its own set of definitions and facts and statistics -- and myths too. And here are seven myths that are not worth spreading.

Most lumps in the breast are cancer.
Actually, most lumps in the breast are not cancer. But every lump should still be examined and diagnosed.

Breast cancer does not occur in young women.
While most breast cancer cases occur in women over the age of 50, breast cancer can and does occur in women of all ages. I was diagnosed at age 34.

Women with large breasts have a greater risk of breast cancer.
Size does not affect risk. But it can be more difficult to examine large breasts and therefore detect a suspicious lump due to a larger amount of tissue.

A woman has little or no risk of breast cancer if she has has no family history of the disease.
Most women with breast cancer -- about 75 percent -- have no family history of breast cancer. Simply being female puts all women at risk. I have no family history of breast cancer -- but I still was diagnosed with this disease and have been treating it for almost two years.

If mammography shows nothing to worry about, then there is nothing to worry about.
Mammography can miss 10 to 15 percent of all breast cancers. So any suspicious mass should be investigated with further tests -- such as ultrasound and MRI. When my lump was examined during a mammogram, my doctor was not worried. But an ultrasound that followed revealed a solid mass -- and this was something to worry about. A biopsy came next. And then came my breast cancer diagnosis.

Once a woman is treated for breast cancer, she should avoid becoming pregnant.
Many breast cancer survivors go on to have successful pregnancies and healthy children. Women should consult their doctors, however, about current and previous treatments and should discuss any possible concerns about pregnancy after breast cancer.

Removal of the entire breast is safer than segmental mastectomy.
Survival is similar for women who have breast-conserving surgery -- like a lumpectomy -- and for those who have either a total or modified mastectomy.

It's not surprising that inaccurate information is floating around about breast cancer -- because there is so much information on the topic and much of it is not completely understood by those who study the disease every day. But we all can take an active part in our own education by researching each tidbit of news that comes our way. We can confirm it, deny it, and understand it better if we take matters into our own hands. And if we don't spread anything we just are not sure about. We owe it to ourselves -- and women everywhere -- to spread only the most accurate information about this disease we all need to better comprehend.

On August 9, Patty was diagnosed with breast cancer. She is 36 years old, a wife, a mother of four children -- and already a fighter in her battle that has just begun. So far, she has endured surgery, and she will soon proceed through months of intensive chemotherapy, one year of Herceptin treatment, and weeks and weeks of radiation. It's a familiar path for so many women -- a path marked by devastation, fear, worry, and panic. Yet if there is a gift that flows from cancer, it must be the support and concern and love that can cushion the blow delivered by this disease.

Patty has an abundance of support -- and it all starts with her husband, ironically an administrator of two cancer centers, who is blogging her journey with great strength and an overwhelming love for his wife whose own mother died of breast cancer in 1992 at the age of 46. Patty and her husband have been vigilant about monitoring her health over the years -- in light of her family history -- and Patty had been tested, screened, biopsied, and examined many times before her diagnosis. When her recent tests and biopsies revealed breast cancer, it was both shocking and expected.

Now Patty and her husband -- who authors the blog Patty's Journey -- are expecting the best of outcomes on this journey of a lifetime.

On Friday, I was full of anxiety and panic and worry -- all over a lump I feel in my left breast that my oncologist says is probably just scar tissue from my lumpectomy two years ago. I don't like the word probably and the more I thought about it, the more unsettled I became. Too many young women hear that the suspicious bumps and lumps they detect in their breasts are nothing to worry about -- and too many women go on to later discover that these same bumps and lumps are in fact cancer. Sometimes it's in enough time to treat the cancer -- and sometimes it's too late.

I am a young woman -- 36 years old -- and I have already had breast cancer. I do not wish to obsess for my entire life about cancer but when I feel a lump in my breast, I want to know it is definitely nothing to worry about. Or I want to know that it is definitely something to worry about -- so I can treat it early.

So when I first got a mammogram and ultrasound appointment scheduled for a week from Friday, I accepted it and wrote it down in my calendar. And then panic set in. I realized I could not wait one week and that I should be able to demand a quicker response. So I called my doctor's office, spoke to the receptionist through uncontrollable tears, and somehow ended up with the doctor herself on the phone. "What's wrong?" she said. "I'm freaking out," I told her. "What do you want to do?" she asked. "Do you want to come in right now?" She told me she had a busy day, had a biopsy to perform that would take a while, but that I could come hang out in her office until she could get to me. Or I could come in on Monday, she said. I let myself calm down a bit and told her Monday would be good. She asked me what time I wanted to come -- she offered me any time that fit my schedule. I chose 9:00 AM.

So tomorrow morning, I will find out what exactly sits underneath the skin on my left breast, near my armpit -- what exactly it is that feels to me like a little mound of tissue that just doesn't seem right. Maybe it's scar tissue -- and I hope it is -- and maybe it's something else. I can only hope that at the end of my appointment I look foolish for pursuing something that doesn't deserve the attention I'm giving it. But if it does deserve attention, I will know I've done the right thing by vigorously pursuing an appointment I just couldn't wait one week for.