June passed away in April, she was 82. She was one of Canada's most celebrated authors and social advocates. She helped the homeless, dealt with issues of racism and injustice. She did much volunteer work.

In 2004, June was diagnosed with inoperable cancer and refused to undergo treatments.

I came across a last interview with her that I thought was very moving. She talks about her life, her marriage, and the fact that her cancer is terminal.

What an amazing woman.

Kelly Jo Dowd, mom of 14-year-old golf sensation Dakoda Dowd, died of breast cancer in her Palm Harbor, Fla. home Thursday night. She was 42.

Dowd spent years battling the disease that had spread to her bones, liver, and brain. She also spent years waiting to see her young daughter play in an LPGA event. Her wish came true last spring.

"I'm prouder today than I was yesterday that my daughter has the courage and strength to play with these LPGA professionals," Dowd said after the Ginn Clubs & Resorts LPGA tournament. "And I feel great right now. I feel great. My dream came true out here."

New hope may be an injection away for patients living with glioma, a terminal brain cancer that comes with a life expectancy of about 25 weeks post-diagnosis.

A new vaccine called Vitaspen is made by using tissue extracted from each person's cancerous tumor. The tissue is used as a unique footprint for the vaccine that targets destructive tumor tissue while sparing healthy tissue in the same region.

Vitaspen is only in the first stage of clinical human trials, but researchers are pleased with the promise of the new drug -- particularly the benefits trial participants are gaining form the treatment. They have reported no adverse side effects, and the drug has increased the overall survival rate.

Results of stage one trials will determine if the drug warrants stage two testing.

Jack Nicholson has been serving up a steady stream of cheer for cancer patients at the Cedars-Sinai Los Angeles hospital.

The Hollywood icon and Oscar winner has been visiting terminal patients and cheering them up with jokes, card games, and behind-the-scenes stories about his career.

Nicholson's next career move comes in the form of a movie called The Bucket List. He plays a dying man in the film and began spending time at the hospital to research his role. But once his film finished, Nicholson kept visiting. He was that touched and moved by the patients.

Hospital staff say the actor's visits do wonders for the patient spirits. The only down side is for Nicholson who finds it hard to leave, knowing he may have seen some of his new friends for the last time.

Today I offer you not so much a Thought for the Day but a Question for the Day. Before I ask my pressing question, though, I want you to consider this story.

Diagnosed with a rare malignant melanoma on her retina in 2001, Ann Guthrie, a South Carolina wife and mother of two grown sons, endured radiation and chemotherapy. The treatments shrunk Guthrie's tumor, but another mass appeared two years later, forcing the removal of her right eye.

At about the same time Guthrie lost her eye, cancer was discovered in her lungs. It was inoperable. Then cancer landed in her brain. And now, without any approved treatment avenues, Guthrie is out of options.

Like many people with terminal illnesses, this woman is willing to try just about anything -- a clinical trial, experimental drugs, risky treatments -- to extend her life. If she's going to die anyway, why not? She just might live longer. And if she doesn't, she could at least help advance science by offering herself up as a sort of guinea pig.

While the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) has proposed changes that would make it easier for patients to access options like these, it's just not that simple right now.

There are ethical issues -- like weighing the needs of people who think anything is better than death against the need of society to prove drugs and treatments work safely. The only way to ensure a sort of balance is through clinical trials -- and letting anyone participate in clinical trials, for example, would make the results harder to interpret.

And there are medical and legal risks. What if terminally ill patients end up in worse shape after a treatment with an experimental drug, for example? What if the FDA or a physician is considered responsible for adverse drug reactions?

Denying terminal patients their last bits of hope is difficult. "It's a hard discussion to have with a patient and his family," says one doctor. "There's a lot of tears. We all would love to be able to get them access to some form of therapy."

And now for my question:

What do you think about terminally ill cancer patients and their access to anything that might extend -- or save -- their lives?

I guess I've just assumed that breast cancer organizations happily accept every donation they receive and joyfully funnel all charitable gifts into their noble endeavors. I mean, without money and research and programs and services and education, where would we be? We'd be uninformed and lagging behind the force of this disease instead of gaining momentum on its trail. That's where we'd be.

Now, I've never assumed these organizations accept money obtained through illegal measures. But I've also never assumed they'd turn away money just because it came from a group of women whose profession and means of fundraising might be considered unacceptable. I suppose I shouldn't make assumptions. Because I seem to be wrong on all accounts.

The Breast Cancer Society of Canada has officially rejected a donation from a group of Vancouver strippers because of the controversial nature of their fundraisers. Exotic Dancers For Cancer these women call themselves, and for four years they have been raising money in honor of another dancer who lost her battle with terminal cancer.

Trina Ricketts, founder of the exotic dancer website nakedtruth.ca and recipient of the letter rejecting the donation, is shocked that people consider this contribution dirty money. And she is so bothered by this unfair judgment that she has been contacting the media and outting the Breast Cancer Society of Canada's discrimination practices. Her protests are working.

In a supportive turn of events, Ricketts has been met with an overwhelmingly positive response -- and she now has several organizations willing to accept all donations she wishes to offer.

This story is not nearly as simple as presented here. It's so much more detailed and touching and moving when told by Ricketts herself -- who happens to share her inspiring journey right here.

CORRECTION: Trina Ricketts reports that she did not seek out the media to out the Breast Cancer Society of Canada.

"The decision to go public was not in the interests of outing the Breast Cancer Society of Canada, but rather to seek out charities that would be willing to accept our donations," she said.

Physicians now have a tool that can diagnose depression in cancer patients. Patients sometimes will need additional treatment to enable them to cope with their cancer more effectively.

The problem has been that doctors might have a hard time telling what patients actually have clinical depression. The patient may be just showing normal signs of sadness, feelings which commonly result from being diagnosed with cancer.

A team from the University of Liverpool's Division of Primary Care has created this method of testing called Brief Edinburgh Depression Scale (BEDS). What this test does is assess the cancer patient's mental condition with a six-step scale. The test includes questions on worthlessness, guilt and suicidal thoughts.

Professor Mari Lloyd-Williams, lead researcher says "The effects of depression can be as difficult to cope with as the physical symptoms of a terminal illness such as cancer. Patients often feel useless, that they are to blame, and even experience suicidal thoughts during cancer - these are all signs of depression but rarely elicited."

The clinical trial that was conducted included 246 patients with advanced cancer. Twenty-five percent of those patients were shown to have depression that had previously not been diagnosed.

It could be the cure for the common hospital gown -- you know, the faded, ultra-thin gowns with the revealing and drafty designs. If only hospital buyers could fork over a few extra bucks, we could all lounge in our hospital beds in The Original Healing Threads -- a stylish alternative to standard-issue hospital attire.

Cancer patient Peg Feodoroff was thinking of the traditional humiliating hospital gown in the spring of 2003 while she was undergoing treatment for stage 3 melanoma and her sister, Claire, was undergoing chemotherapy for stage 4 metastatic colon cancer.

Feodoroff's thoughts led to an idea. And so she recruited Claire and another sister, Patty, and together the three sisters crafted a machine-washable, wrinkle-resistant, StainSmart garment with an Asian-inspired look and special features -- long, wide sleeves that roll up for tests, hidden panels easily accessed for bandage changing, inner pockets to hold treatment and drainage bags, and easy-to-use buttons, fasteners, and ties. Breakaway pants and robes and also part of the The Original Healing Threads collection.

A portion of The Original Healing Threads profits go to creating Claire's Foundation, a group supporting single mothers fighting terminal illnesses, in honor of Claire, who lost her battle with cancer just one year ago.

Don't wait for your local hospitals to buy into this novel idea. Buy one on-line for yourself or a loved one. Prices range from $44 to $120.

Should my cancer come back, should my prognosis be poor, should my life approach an abrupt stop, my one wish would be for enough time to leave something meaningful for my children. It would be something written or something on video, something that would allow me to somehow guide my little boys through their years, something that would offer them a lasting impression of me.

This is just what Melanie Worthington, a Michigan mom, did for her five-year-old son after receiving her diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer.

Worthington made video tapes for her little boy, Theo. Her mother helped her, and they taped mother and son making cookies and playing together at a cabin. They tried to capture anything to remind Theo time of spent with his mom.

And then a few weeks after his 39-year-old mom died, Theo's tapes were stolen by someone who walked through an unlocked door at the Worthington home. Also stolen were two camcorders, a portable DVD player, and other assorted tapes.

Virtually all of Theo's video memories are gone. There are no duplicates of the tapes, and police have no suspects in the case.

"It was like someone had come out and taken her away from us a second time," Worthington's sister said.

Melanie, who died Thanksgiving weekend, was living with Theo, her parents, and her sister in a ranch home on a dirt road. Her parents, both on disability and without a lot of financial resources, have pulled together a $200 reward for the return of the tapes.

"Maybe this is one way we can get them back," said Worthington's mom. "I guess I'm hoping for some kind of miracle."

Luis Carranza is just eight years old. And he is just a few years -- or perhaps a few months -- away from dying as a result of a weakened immune system due to aggressive treatment for leukemia. The same treatment that at one time brought remission for this boy also attacked his central nervous system, caused seizures, brought on terminal and irreversible brain damage, and eventually sent him into a vegetative state. Luis has traveled a rough road -- and so has his mother who illegally slipped him across the Mexican border into the United States in hopes of treatment to save her young son's life.

Guadalupe Carranza did find salvation for her son in a Texas hospital and for more than one year, Luis received chemotherapy and radiation -- and loads of love from staff and volunteers who helped care for him. Guadalupe was not always there for her son, though, because after locating helpful health care and social services, she was deported to Mexico. She tried to return on many occasions and even received assistance from doctors, nurses, social workers, and attorneys who worked to find a legal way to unite Guadalupe and Luis. But not until Luis fell into a coma did efforts pay off.

After negotiation with border and consulate officials, Guadalupe was granted a humanitarian parole visa and legally crossed into the United States on May 8. The visa allowed her 60 days -- but officials agreed to let her stay until Luis passes away. And so she stays -- by her son's bedside where he rests peacefully in a place that gave him a chance at life. A chance his mother says he never would have had in Mexico.

I have the deepest admiration for terminal breast cancer survivor Jane Tomlinson. In fact, you could rightly say I am in awe of her. This summer, I followed her epic journey across the US, as she left from San Francisco to ride across this country on a bicycle. Cycling 4,200 miles for cancer charity, she intended to end her ride at Battery Park in New York City, and she has arrived.

Why does Jane inspire me? It is her spirit. In times of any challenge or crisis, we all need heroes. People who inspire by sheer determination and resilience of will. Someone to look to as a reminder to keep going as long as we can. Jane is one of my heroes.

It's a question that could face any one of us at any time -- the question over whether to pay the high cost of cancer treatment, when it could send us into debt, or to discontinue treatment in order to save money for the family members who will survive us. Dying of lung cancer, Carolyn Hobbs was confronted with this exact question when considering a new biotechnology drug -- Erbitux -- that she learned cost $1,800. The drug may have extended her life but she determined it wasn't worth it -- and she refused the treatment.

During the last decade, expensive new treatments -- some upwards of $50,000 -- have given some patients their first real fighting chance against disease. The problem with these treatments, however, is that most patients will only survive an extra few months. A lucky few may survive for years. For some, maybe the small fortune these few months or years cost is worth it. For others, squandering their life savings on an extended death sentence is not worth it.

For me -- right now -- I believe I would do anything possible to ensure a longer life. And according to one poll, nearly one-third of Americans faced with death would also do anything possible to survive just a bit longer. This percentage is up from one-fifth in 1990. So I have some company in my corner. But I have not walked in the shoes that require this type of decision. I can only speculate about how I might approach this life-and-death decision. And hopefully, I will never have to make it.

Firefighters pull off heroic maneuvers all the time. Heat and smoke and fire are their constant companions. Emergency scenarios keep them perpetually challenged. Risking their lives is a top job responsibility. I can't imagine taking on this line of work, yet I am amazed by those who do -- for their eagerness to save lives while compromising their own. And to read today that cancer is another occupational hazard for firefighters makes me appreciate them even more.

In Edmonton, a firefighter who was praised as a hero for saving the life of a rookie firefighter in 2003 died on Saturday of job-related cancer at the age of 47 -- just two years after doctors diagnosed him with a terminal form of multiple myeloma. Clarke Stevens was expected to live for five years.

Ken Block, president of the Edmonton firefighters union said Stevens' death is a reminder of the risks these heroes take. Block says firefighters are between two and four times more likely to develop certain cancers, and Stevens is the fifth Edmonton firefighter to die of cancer since 2004.

It takes a special person to make saving others' lives a priority. To risk death in so many ways -- for the benefit of strangers -- must be the true definition of selflessness. And thank goodness for these selfless individuals who help keep the rest of us safe.

To honor and support former 1995 Hooters Calendar Cover Girl, Kelly Jo Dowd, who is battling a recurrence of breast cancer that has spread to her organs and bones -- during the 10th Annual Hooters International Swimsuit Pageant in Las Vegas, Hooters gave her a check for $135,000 and announced a $1 million dollar breast cancer research grant in her name through the V Foundation for Cancer Research.

Dowd, who is 40, successfully went into remission the first time she was diagnosed with breast cancer, only to have the cancer return, is the only woman to climb Hooters restaurant chain's corporate ladder from waitress, to manager, and to general manager. She is also the proud mother of golfing teen phenom Dakoda Dowd.

The V Foundation was launched during the last year of NC State basketball coach and ESPN broadcaster Jim Valvano's life, when he was diagnosed with metastatic adenocarcinoma, and told he had a year to live. He spent the last year as an advocate in raising cancer awareness by sharing his personal experience as someone facing life and death with cancer. Valvano's message in the fight against cancer was "Don't Give Up ... Don't Ever Give Up!"

Dowd is fighting for her life, and Hooters has stepped in to help her, and other women facing breast cancer and fighting for their lives, in never giving up in the battle.

When last we posted about Jane Tomlinson's Ride Across America to raise breast cancer awareness and money for cancer research, she was having a difficult time.

In hip and back pain from recently finishing chemotherapy just two weeks before she left San Francisco -- final destination New York -- she began suffering dehydration and extreme fatigue near Cedar City. The diary entry for that day of the ride read, "All we need now is your good thoughts and a massive change of luck."

Tomlinson rallied with renewed energy, continued on, and yesterday she made it to the halfway point of her coast-to-coast ride.

I am following her journey with great enthusiasm because of her courage and strength. Six years ago, when she was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer, she was told she had six months to live. Not only has she outlived all predictions, she is also known as the only cancer patient to complete a full Ironman triathlon and the first person to run a marathon while on chemotherapy. During chemotherapy, I had trouble walking across the room or keeping jello down. Jane is incredible.