Every bump and bruise, every ache, and every extra flutter of my heart (I get anxious fairly easily) seems to merit a text to my oncologist, who luckily always responds and calms me down. But am I right to over-worry about my health after under-worrying and getting such a scary diagnosis?

June has become the ultimate dichotomy for me. In 2002, on June 8, I had my last of 20 chemotherapy treatments in 11 weeks. I was unbelievably sick, but I had finally reached a finish line of sorts. That was the day when I finally told cancer to "suck it."

Conventional medicine advises that we start getting annual mammograms at age 40. And yet, as I have come to understand, mammograms have a difficult time detecting cancer in small, dense, young breast tissue.

This 9-year-old cancer survivor is on a mission to take back the term "bucket list." One game of "messy twister" at a time. Maya, a third grader from Ohio who is battling a rare form of leukemia, wants to share her "bucket list for summer 2013" (below) to inspire others -- healthy or sick, old or young -- to get busy living.

At present, it is impossible to prove that statins have any effect on the development or spread of cancer. It may take decades for a carcinogenic effect to surface, and by then, a relationship may not be recognized, especially if statins have been discontinued.

We talk about not "sweating the small stuff" and "going with the flow," but how many of us really practice this in our lives? I don't know why any of us has to have a near death experience to chill the eff out -- it doesn't have to be that way, does it?

Part of me knew it was coming and part of me thought I was crazy to even think I could have such a disease at 25. I'll never forget sitting in that room alone and wondering if I would make it to my 26th birthday. It's funny how your attitude about life can change when you realize yours could be taken away.

I walk like a penguin, I think, chuckling at my short stride. Days ago I danced at a wedding. Historically I had been the loner watching the dance floor from afar, but this time I visited YouTube, where a smooth Asian gentleman taught me basic moves.

Last week I noticed a black speck on my arm. Yep, definitely cancer. Later, I noticed the spot was gone. Why do I torture myself like this? I suppose my medical history has taught me that my hunches are usually correct, but lately I seemed to be going crazier than usual.

My relationship with cancer will forever be evolving. I hope for a clean break. Yet, even when we say goodbye for good, it will take a long time to heal from the forever imprints our time together has made on my being -- a tattoo inked during a four-year (and counting) bender.

We know, we know, we know. Preservatives are bad for us. Our snack food is saturated with chemicals. If we keep eating pesticides our organs will t...