A new study shows that there is no empirical or statistical evidence proving that grief counseling is harmful to clients, contrary to common beliefs. The study was conducted by Dale G. Larson, PhD and William T. Hoyt, PhD.

A report from 2000 claimed that almost 50 percent of "normal grievers" deteriorate as a result of grief counseling. This report has frequently been cited in both scientific literature and the popular press.

Larson and Hoyt took another look at the data and found that the data on which this report was based have never been published, came from a dissertation that was never peer-reviewed, and utilized a statistical method from another student's dissertation that had also never been peer-reviewed. Larson and Hoyt conducted a peer review of the dissertations and reviewers were unanimous in their conclusion that the report is flawed.

Hoyt states, "It is disturbing that such radical claims, which contradict clinical experience and even common sense, could proliferate in journals, at conferences, and in national reports without anyone's ever acting on the basic scientific obligation to examine the data and analyses on which they were based."

According to Larson and Hoyt, the effects of grief counseling were positive, although smaller than those seen in other forms of counseling.

I'm not sure where I was headed professionally before cancer. I knew I was happy as a stay-at-home mom, and I didn't give much thought to what might come next. I was pretty certain I would not do what I did before kids -- college administration and counseling -- and that's as far as I'd gotten in my decision-making process.

It seems cancer would have further confused my future intentions. But it didn't. Instead, it led me in a direction I may have otherwise never discovered. First, it guided me to a part-time position at my kids' preschool. Just after surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation and in the midst of Herceptin breast cancer treatment, I felt a strong urge to reenter the world of the living. One day as I was dropping off my oldest child at his Pre-K class, I noticed an advertisement on the doors of the school. I inquired within -- and got a job working two afternoons per week.

The job was a blessing. I got to see my kids while I worked, interact with loving adults and children, and distract myself from the darkness of cancer.

Breast cancer made a mess of me -- a scarred, sick, bald, burned, depressed mess. The mess was short-lived, though, and I am happy to report that my scars are fading, I'm no longer sick, I have hair, radiation burns are a thing of the past, and most important: I'm not depressed.

I took my last anti-depressant pill on Saturday. For some time, I've been tapering my dosage and when I realized on Monday that I was taking my Zoloft only twice per week, I asked my oncologist to recommend an official quitting time. He told me: Now.

So that's it. I'm standing on my own two feet -- no treatment, no counseling, no pills to help me cope. The mess has cleared, and life is once again tidy.

Someone told me in the thick of my cancer madness: This too shall pass. For me, It did.

It's been one year since I began writing for The Cancer Blog. According to statistics generated by this site, I've written 27,381 words and 793 posts. If you've been reading for this entire time, you surely know a lot about me. Not only do my posts reflect current news and issues, but they feature all sorts of personal stuff too. When considered together, my work here reflects just about every piece of my cancer journey, my inner most thoughts, my morals and values, my take on the world. But for those of you who haven't been reading for long, for those who have forgotten how I fit into the cancer puzzle, for those who want a recap, here's a rundown on me: Jacki Donaldson.

I was born and raised in Ohio but have also lived in Nevada, Virginia, and Florida -- my current home. My life always went pretty much according to plan -- I lived happily with my parents and one sister, faithfully attended school, went to college, got married, had two baby boys and a series of good jobs, and had just begun commenting to my family members about how lucky our family was not to have been affected by cancer. It seems just as I spoke this aloud, cancer arrived.

My six-year-old Joey told his grandmother -- my mom -- the other day, "Nana, you are generous." It was thoughtful and touching and it brought a smile to her face. Later that night, Joey said the same to me. "Mom, you are generous," he proclaimed. And now I'm not sure if he really meant his sweet sentiments or if he was just practicing one of his new kindergarten vocabulary words. Regardless, it got me thinking about how generous his Nana really is.

My mom not only generously gave me life. She also saved my life -- not in the medical, scientific manner surgeons and oncologists saved my life but by the sheer force of love, support, comfort, and undying devotion that seems to involuntarily pour from the hearts of moms with sick children.

There's this guy. His name is Matthew Zachary. He's a cancer survivor, a motivational speaker, a concert pianist, and the founder of a resource portal for young adults surviving cancer.

Steps for Living, Inc. -- also known as I'm too young for this -- was created by Zachary because he wants us all to know there are awesome cancer support services out there for adolescents and young adults. He means really awesome opportunities -- like spa retreats, online forums and blogs, social networking, camping excursions, fertility education, peer counseling, financial scholarships, and more.

You may be too young for cancer, but you are not alone, says Zachary whose mantra is Get Busy Living. And this is exactly what he is doing, despite challenges and setbacks in his own cancer recovery.

Think about this, an e-mail written by Zachary for those near and dear to his heart:

I am writing to share that I have suddenly gone deaf in my left ear. The condition is called Sudden Sensory Neural Hearing Loss.

After consulting with the country's best hearing experts as well as my oncologist, it has been determined that this is unequivocally a latent, long-term side effect of my post-operative cancer treatments from eleven years ago. Evidently, the excessive radiation dosages to the left hemisphere of my brain have caused irreparable neurological damage to my cochlea, which has ceased functioning.

There may be options (cochlear implants) but I will not know more for several weeks. As you can imagine, this is a devastating blow to my personal life and music career, especially since I remember fighting so hard to regain dexterity and muscle control in my left hand when it ceased functioning prior to my initial diagnosis in 1995.

That said, it has only reinvigorated me to stay the course and continue to advocate on behalf of the more than 500,000 young adults living with, through and beyond cancer each and every year. Now more than ever, I stress the importance of recognizing that remission is not a cure and that public awareness and adequate funding for adolescent and young adult cancer survivorship programming is tantamount to that of cancer research.

This is what it means to be a cancer survivor.

To read more about Zachary's powerful journey, click here for an unbelievably moving essay -- titled The Cost Of Living: No Cure For Cancer -- written by this unbelievably grounded guy.

My friend -- who has a friend newly diagnosed with brain cancer -- greeted me at the door the other day and asked with a sense of urgency, "How can I help?"

"Help your friend?" I asked.

"Yes, she said, unsure of what she might say or do in this time of great difficulty for everyone involved.

I told her a few things. And then I thought of some more. It wasn't terribly easy to come up with these ideas. Because even though I myself was on the receiving end of help during my cancer journey, it's still hard to imagine what an individual wants or needs -- or doesn't want or need. But here's what I've got to offer.

I hope this helps my friend.

I hope it helps you too.

• Allow your loved one to take the lead. If you sense this person wants to talk, then talk. If you sense talk is not welcomed, then don't talk. To determine whether or not your friend or family member wants to discuss cancer, approach the topic and judge the response you get. I know I can usually tell if someone is willing to open up -- typically the conversation just flows -- and when someone is putting the brakes on chit-chat -- typically the conversation falls flat.

• If talk is not in the cards, then consider an offer of food. Sometimes actions speak much louder than words. So think about calling a restaurant in your friend's town and ordering a meal to be delivered right to the door. Most eating establishments accept credit card numbers over the phone so location should be a non-issue. Even those deep in despair need to eat, and taking away the chore of cooking and cleaning up can be quite a gift.

• If the gift of food is not up your alley, how about sending a small gift, like a candle, a pair of cozy socks, a grocery store gift card, a music CD, a gift certificate for a spa. You name it, your special something might brighten the day.

• If you live near your loved one and have some free time, offer to drive to appointments, visit during treatments, pick up kids and entertain them for the day, clean house, cook, and clean up dinner. Try to be very specific with your offers. Say, "I'd like to pick up your kids tomorrow at lunch so you can take a nap" or "I'm coming over on Sunday to rake leaves." These offers are easier to accept than the "call me if you need anything" kind.
  

• If a quick stop at your loved one's house is possible, drop off a book on the front porch or set some pretty potted flowers by the door. Or do both. Then walk away without saying a word. Let your help take your friend by surprise.

• When you do have the chance to talk, avoid guiding the conversation with your own thoughts and advice, unless requested. Saying, "Everything will be OK," for example, may not be true. Assuring your friend she will sail right through chemotherapy may backfire if nausea and fatigue are just down the road. Stating, "it's OK, your hair will grow back," doesn't really help those living with the horror of hair loss. So stay away from promises and predictions and stick to the present. Ask questions, listen, and paraphrase back what your friend has shared. These are basic counseling techniques. The premise is that allowing the person to work through the issues is more important than what we can do to directly help.
  

• Don't forget about the good old greeting card or short note that lets your loved know how much you care. Let the card say it if you wish to avoid writing and then add an address, a stamp, and send your support on its way.
  

• This makes eight -- so much for sticking to my Sunday plan -- but I must share this too: Don't forget about your loved one after months and even years pass by. Initial diagnoses are tough and treatments are tough too. But as your friend survives each day, remember to check in. Cancer is a life-long battle for many. Support and assistance may be just as valuable a year down the road as it is on day one.

Cancer sent me into a state of depression. And it took more than a year of counseling and treatment with an anti-depressant to bring me back to a balanced and healthy level of functioning.

My type of depression -- the kind that shows up just after a cancer diagnosis -- is not uncommon. And neither is the spillover that depression can leave on the children of moms depressed because of their disease.

A study at the University of Pittsburgh -- the first to examine the relationship between children's concerns and a mother's cancer-related depression -- found children of depressed breast cancer patients were more likely to be concerned or anxious about their mother's cancer and about how the disease affects their families.

It's not surprising that kids worry about their moms during times of illness. What startled researchers, though, is the fact that children's' anxieties extended to concerns about the entire family.

The results of this study, funded by the National Cancer Institute, has clear implications. As a society, we need to think about how depression affects whole family units. Oncologists must learn to spot depression early and must swiftly assist women in finding appropriate treatment. And parents should talk openly about cancer and it's emotional side effects with their children in an effort to protect them from withdrawing, hiding their concerns, and suffering in silence.

Most estimates indicate nearly one quarter of women diagnosed with breast cancer have young children. And about 100,000 kids will be affected by a cancer diagnosis this year alone.

Cancer patients receiving treatment at the Arizona Cancer Center in Tucson will walk through the doors of a new building -- the Fasseas Cancer Center-- beginning tomorrow morning.

The new center, named after major donors Peter and Paula Fasseas, is built on the skeleton of a defunct Tucson hospital. It took 16 months to build and cost an estimated $30 million. And now the comprehensive cancer center is ready for use.

More than 800 cancer patients have appointments during the first week, and 110 medical staff will relocate to the new clinic that has been called the crown jewel of new University Medical Center North Campus and one of the most modern cancer treatment centers in the United States.

The new two-story clinic -- to be joined later by facilities for radiation oncology, ambulatory surgery, imaging services, and a Ronald McDonald House for pediatric patients and their families -- will feature patient support groups, counseling, therapeutic massage, a healing garden, a resource center, and a salon to help patients cope with hair loss and other side effects of cancer treatment.

A formal grand opening for the new clinic is planned for February 18.

Smoking is not an easy habit to break, and of the many methods tried, only a handful seem to work. Of the methods that do seem to work -- nicotine-replacement products; bupropion drugs; counseling; classes; calling a helpline or talking to a health professional -- younger smokers between the ages of 16 and 24 years who smoke and try to quit only use one of the recommended methods of help by talking to a professional. Because of this, younger smokers are less likely to be successful in quitting, according to the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC).

During the 2003 National Youth Smoking Cessation Survey, the CDC found that younger smokers most often tried to quit smoking by cutting back on the number of cigarettes they smoked each day; not buying cigarettes; exercising; using the buddy system and trying to quit with a friend; telling others they were quitting and changing to a lighter brand of cigarette, switching to chewing tobacco, snuff, or other tobacco products. None of these methods are recommended by the US Public Health Service.

According to the National Youth Smoking Cessation Survey, 77 percent of younger smokers have tried to quit at least once without success. Over a third have tried to quit smoking numerous times without success. Researchers suggest that many younger smokers may need help with other high-risk behaviors such as binge drinking; depression or ADD/ADHD.

If you are a younger smoker who is trying to quit, the CDC encourages you to call 1-800-QUIT-NOW or talk to your physician about methods that might lead to more success. The 2-page summary of the National Youth Smoking Cessation Survey is available as a pdf document.

The build-up to 2006 was a bit uncertain for me. At the end of 2004, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and set my sights on short-term survival, moment by moment, day by day. I wasn't sure 2005 -- in its entirety -- was a guarantee so I tried not to look too far ahead. I focused on the completion of each of the year's cancer steps -- surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, the beginning of a year-long Herceptin therapy, and so much more -- and somehow, I survived the whole ordeal. And the whole year.

I made it through 2005, and I have almost made it through 2006 -- a year marked by a cancer slow-down, a more normal existence. Moment by moment, day by day, the burden of cancer loosened it's grip on me. And as I begin to reflect on the year that has all but passed before my eyes, I realize it turned out just fine. Here are seven reasons why.

• On May 19, 2006, my very first post published on The Cancer Blog. What a thrill it was -- and still is -- to find myself engaged in a useful pursuit as a result of my own cancer experience.
  

• On June 28, 2006, the last drops of Herceptin made their way through my body, marking the conclusion of 17 doses of this hopefully life-saving potion.

• On September 15, 2006, my port came out, signaling my acceptance of a life without drug treatment, my faith that I will never again need a foreign object sewn under my skin.

• On December 6, 2006, 18 months of counseling came to a close. Armed with skills to cope with all sorts of emotional issues, I am marching forward, free of the disabling anxiety and free-flowing tears that first landed me in the counseling chair.

• For much of 2006, I have been a student of fitness training, pushing myself physically in search of better health. It's not always easy, I'm not always motivated, and I am known to whine a bit -- but still, I am happier just knowing I am working toward sustained health.
  

• Throughout the entire year, I have walked away from every medical check-up and follow-up with a clean bill of health. I hear the longer someone survives cancer, the less likely the disease is to return. Happily, I have two years of survival under my belt.

• Ever since my diagnosis, I have been reaching for others with journeys similar to mine. First, I reached for support and guidance and reassurance. Then, I reached to offer my own version of support and guidance and reassurance. The year 2006 has been full of rich connections, found only because of cancer. Reaching makes me feel good.

Yes, the year 2006 turned out just fine.

An ABC news team in Australia abandoned its Brisbane radio studio yesterday after an investigation revealed there is something about the workplace causing breast cancer.

It's not clear what the cause may be, but the five-month-long investigation concluded a breast cancer cluster is related to the office environment.

Twelve women who worked at the Brisbane Toowong office had been diagnosed with breast cancer over the past 11 years. Eight of these women worked in the newsroom. Most had been there for more than five years.

ABC managing editor Mark Scott would not move his staff earlier this year when 100 staff members walked off the job in July, demanding relocation. He said it would take evidence -- not just suspicion -- of a breast cancer cluster for him to agree to relocation. Now he has evidence.

The investigation report shows women who worked at this office reported breast cancer at a rate 11 times higher than the general working community.

In addition to the relocation, all female staff at Toowong office were offered free mammograms and free counseling services during the investigation. Yesterday, Scott extended the offer to women at other ABC sites in Australia.

In Letting it all out might increase chances of cancer survivorship, we shared that finding techniques to minimize stress is an effective way to better health. Our focus in that post was journaling and talk therapy as a means to expressing thoughts and feelings, rather than stuffing your emotions and keeping it all inside. According to the experts featured in that post, "It's about the link between the mind and the body and how your mind state can affect the disease state in the body."

In addition to journaling and talk therapy, cancer centers are offering cancer patients and caregivers self hypnosis techniques to help reduce stress as a part of an overall cancer treatment program. M.D. Anderson Cancer Center's social work supervisor Aida Molano, who has taught hypnosis and self-hypnosis classes at the center for the last 16 years, is offering a 30-minute self-hypnosis CD online as a free download.

According to Molano, hypnosis can help patients and caregivers offset sleeping difficulties, fear of medical procedures, problems concentrating, pain and fatigue using hypnosis techniques. If interested, by clicking on this link, you can download the free 30-minute self-hypnosis CD.

I'm Too Young For This! (i2y) is a recently launched portal for adolescent and young adult (AYA) cancer survivors. Featured i2y resources and support services include survivor spa retreats, online forums and blogs, social networking, camping excursions, fertility education, peer counseling, and financial scholarships.

"The i2y website is primed to become a premiere online resource for AYAs with cancer by eliminating the stress and hassle of navigating through thousands of search engine results," said Matthew Zachary, founder and executive director of Steps For Living and an 11-year young adult survivor of pediatric brain cancer. "Our goal to make I'm Too Young For This! the first place adolescents and young adults with cancer think of to go when in search of credible, targeted support programs, tools and services."

"This website is just what the doctor ordered. Now, with the click of a mouse, they can instantly connect with a universe of others just like them." Doug Ulman, Chief Mission Officer for the Lance Armstrong Foundation and a 10-year young adult survivor says, "We are pleased that Steps For Living is dedicated to making a difference in cancer advocacy for this community."

To raise awareness for the i2y organization, the AYA Steps For Living musician/cancer survivors have released a 21-track benefit CD featuring their original songs and music. You can listen to the playlist here. Included in the album is an i2y online resource guide.

The tagline of i2y reads: Got Cancer? Under 40? Sucks, huh? Get Busy Living. Indeed, if you are between the ages of 15-39, i2y is a destination meant just for you. If you are a caregiver or friend of a teen or young adult who is facing the challenges of cancer survivorship, let them know about i2y. This is a phenomenal group of artists, musicians, writers and photographers who, as young adult cancer survivors, got busy living. Visit I'm Too Young For This! to learn more.

I never predicted counseling would be part of my treatment for cancer. I am well-acquainted with the practice of talk therapy -- I have a graduate degree in counselor education and spent seven years counseling college students with presenting issues such as roommate conflicts, alcohol use and abuse, sexual assault, and depression -- but I never envisioned myself on the receiving end of such a relationship, never imagined I would be the one prescribed an anti-depressant and referred for cognitive-behavioral therapy.

Yet I have spent the past two years talking candidly -- and at times weeping uncontrollably -- with a talented young woman who has given me the tools to cope with life in the aftermath of a cancer diagnosis. And on Tuesday, the culmination of these two years will result in one final session. Together, my counselor and I will recount what has happened to me, how I have handled it, how I will proceed for the rest of my life.

At the end of my one-hour session on Tuesday, I will be set free. I will walk the white, sterile halls of a hospital basement, travel in an elevator up one flight, and exit a building I never knew could become so familiar. I will allow the outdoors to greet me, and for the very first time since cancer invaded my life, I will accept the challenge of living forward -- without the therapy that helped save my life.

On Tuesday, my case will be closed. On Tuesday, a new version of my life begins.