I was trained months ago to serve as a Reach to Recovery volunteer for the American Cancer Society (ACS). My purpose: to meet face-to-face with women facing breast cancer, to offer them some measure of comfort, to help them manage their overwhelming emotions, to provide them with information and resources, to impart hope during a time of fear and uncertainty.

For months, I had not been called upon to meet with anyone in my community. I'd like to think this is a good thing -- a sign of decreasing breast cancer cases perhaps -- but I tend to believe it stems from a hesitancy to ask for help or a lack of knowledge about this support program. Regardless, I got my first call last week. And I made my first visit. And these are my first impressions of my first encounter as a Reach to Recovery volunteer.

The Reach to Recovery program operates on the premise of matching like-cancer survivors. I was matched with a young woman -- she is 31; I am 37, although my diagnosis came at age 34 -- and each of us was diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. We both had surgery, both have young children, both feel a little sad that because of cancer, we likely won't have more children. We connected. We bonded. For a little more than one hour, we were in the same boat. Together, we tackled rough waters.

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.

I'm just waiting for the call -- the call that prompts my first visit with any number of newly-diagnosed breast cancer patients who want someone to lend an ear, a shoulder, and a few good tips for steering through a scary journey.

I am a new American Cancer Society Reach to Recovery volunteer, trained this past Saturday and ready to help others who are slipping into the shoes I started wearing two years ago. I was first a recipient of this program -- designed to match new breast cancer patients with veteran survivors through face-to-face visits -- and I know well the comfort that comes from the support of someone not so overwhelmed by cancer. So now it's my turn to offer the comfort. And I am oh so ready.

I am armed with literature, communication techniques, gift bags for my patients, and my own official volunteer pin. And while I am a bit anxious about how my first meeting will go, I learned on Saturday that my mere presence will be enough to calm the women whose lives I am about to touch.

There is no better vision for someone just diagnosed with breast cancer than a healthy, happy woman who happens to be surviving the same disease. And so it is hope that I will spread and my unspoken portrayal of life after cancer that will inspire these women. My words will be icing on the cake. It's me these women want to see. And it's these women I want to see as I begin to reach to recovery -- a recovery I suspect will largely be my own.

A poodle named Lucy refuses to leave her owners side and has become very popular with the nurses and visitors. The patient Maggie Bellamy is staying at the hospice while she is undergoing cancer treatments.

Lucy likes to snuggle up on the rug near Maggie's bed and goes for short walks around the grounds. Ms. Bellamy said "I thought it was incredible when I was told that Lucy could come and stay with me in the hospice. She frets over me, but is very well behaved and everyone fell in love with her. She is good therapy for other patients too."

Lucy is the only dog you will see at this hospice. Dogs belonging to Pets as Therapy also pop in with their owners to visit patients.

Fraser Meek, manager of the hospice in-patient unit, said "We are happy to welcome a patient's pet to be bought along either for a visit, or to stay in the room where possible. Visits from gentle pets help the patients relax and add to the homely atmosphere of the hospice".

What a nice story!

I have made on-line visits to Wikipedia many times -- mostly for information on cancer. And what I've found are endless resources, thoroughly-covered topics, and material that is easy to read and easy to understand. Wikipedia, a free on-line encyclopedia -- where readers can participate in editing and changing content -- offers information on just about any topic you can imagine. And here are seven stops you might make in pursuit of cancer-related material.

The Center for Caregiver Training is developing web based education courses for AIDS/HIV and cancer caregivers that offer practical skills to manage and cope with the responsibilities of being a caregiver. Caregiving 101 has three completed modules of lessons -- Learning About the Disease; Working with Your Medical Team; and Building a Personal Support Team.

To make the most of the time spent visiting with the doctor, one of the lessons in the Working with Your Medical Team module is How to Be Prepared for a Ten Minute Doctor's Visit.

Here are some of the tips included in the lesson:

• Always maintain an up-to-date medication list that includes all prescription and non-prescription items taken.
• Keep a journal of information that the doctor feels is important. This might be weight, temperature, blood pressure, blood sugar levels, and level of pain.
• Between visits, make a note of any unusual symptoms experienced in the journal. This might be night sweats, nausea, lack of appetite, insomnia, fatigue, confusion or anxiety.
• In the journal, jot down questions you might have for the doctor as you think of them.
• Bring the journal with you when you take your loved one to visit the doctor.
  

Other modules in development are Finding Help in the Community, Tools for Life as a Caregiver, Daily Care at Home, Managing Medications, Maintaining Nutrition, Managing Symptoms & Side Effects, Managing Pain and Coping With Mental Changes.

I was examined yesterday by my radiation oncologist and two medical students during a six-month follow-up appointment. And any apprehension I had prior to the visit -- about a recurrence of breast cancer or the detection of cancer somewhere else in my body -- is gone. Because I walked away with the news that I am doing just fine. No lumps or bumps or suspicious masses were found. No enlarged lymph nodes were detected. And since I did not report any pain or tenderness or sensitivity or other trouble, I was sent on my way with nothing more than a notice for a return appointment in another six months. I have other appointments hanging in the balance -- one with my medical oncologist in August and a mammogram in November -- and I am sure hesitation and worry will again sneak into my head. But for now, I can only feel the true exhilaration that comes from truly good news. Like the exhilaration that comes from a breathtaking moment at the ocean -- where the power and beauty of the sea and the sky and the sand is all it takes for one five-year-old boy to feel amazingly free.

Lori is driving across the country trying to raise money -- $9,490 to be exact -- for breast cancer research. One dollar for every day that her mother battled breast cancer. And she is close. She has already raised $8,629.40 through sponsors and donations and has traveled a whopping 6,874 miles since she first hit the road in May. She's been through California and Nevada and North Dakota and Utah and Wyoming -- among other places. She camps and hikes and canoes and stops to see friends along the way. Like the friend she will visit today in Minnesota -- a friend who is surviving breast cancer. She stops at roadside attractions and restaurants and charming little overnight resorts. She stops for photos and to write on her blog -- and through it all, she reflects on the mother she lost almost one year ago. And she raises hope for others fighting breast cancer by giving 100 percent of her donations to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation. I am impressed. I am honored. I am in awe of what Lori is doing. Because I know I could never do it.

I don't like to travel -- and anything more than a three-hour trek in any direction, by any mode of transportation, is too much for me. And while I have traveled in my life to faraway places -- England, France, Germany, Italy, and more -- I do not enjoy any part of the process that gets me to and from my destinations. I'm not sure why. I just don't like it. But I admire those who venture to distant lands. And those who find excitement in a spontaneous trip. And those who tackle the long road across state lines for the pure thrill of it. And those -- like Lori -- who do it so others can benefit. So others can survive the disease that takes so many lives. The disease that took Lori's mom.