My medical oncologist asks me how I'm doing "psychologically." And the truth is that most days I'm fine. Although I wish -- of course -- that I didn't have cancer again. I am calm and methodical about my cancer and how I will go about treating it, because now it is just a part of my life.

Once you've been diagnosed with breast cancer, the word "worry" takes on a life of its own. You worry about the treatment working, the cancer coming back, the cancer spreading, how you're supposed to live a "normal" life. You worry. But you live. Because you have to.

It didn't really matter what we called ourselves though, because everyone knew what the names really meant. Everyone knew they really meant top, middle or bottom. We all knew exactly what was being done. We were being labeled.

Although I would never say that I am "grateful" for having had breast cancer, I am pleased with the change in course that breast cancer catalyzed for me. Apparently, life is what happens while we're busy making other plans.

I believe we can herald 2012 as one of the greatest exposures for stage IV breast cancer of this century. I wasn't suffocated by the "pink haze" this ...

With November being National Family Caregiver Month, I am immediately reminded and in gratitude for all that my mom did to take care of me during my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment.

The year 2011 was, in short, the worst year of my life... a year that changed just about every part of my life. But here it is, Breast Cancer Awareness Month 2012, and I feel mostly good.

The Keep A Breast Foundation made plaster molds of women's busts and auctioned them off to raise funds for breast cancer awareness. I thought this was a fantastic idea. I emailed them immediately, and days before my reconstructive surgery, I had a plaster mold made of my torso.

An odd feeling comes over me as fall starts to creep into late summer. It isn't necessary to consult a calendar to know that all my cancer anniversaries are lining up.

When I was diagnosed with cancer two years ago this month, I never asked "Why?" Instead, I wondered, "What am I supposed to learn from this experience?" As it turns out, one of the Silver Linings of my experience with breast cancer was learning some valuable life lessons.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in August 2006. Treatment -- lumpectomy, chemo and radiation -- lasted for more than a year. During my illness I found poetry -- both reading and writing it -- was cathartic.

Pain and sadness are important and valuable feelings that need to be processed during and after any rotten experience. The beauty of Silver Linings is that they don't take away the rain. Rather, they provide an umbrella.

I decided that I would undergo a bilateral mastectomy with immediate reconstruction. I remember the frustration I felt at not having the mastectomy sooner. I wanted to fast track the whole thing. I wanted those things off yesterday.