My mother lost both breasts to breast cancer, one in the forties, the second one ten years later. It left a real blight on her life. She lived to almost ninety, but the fear of having the cancer return never left her.

She wasn't the only one who lived in fear. I was afraid that, as her daughter, I might inherit the disease. I checked my breasts often and went for my yearly mammogram. An article I read today on the Cancer Blog brought it all back.

Cancer-related fear once consumed my mind. Now it sits lodged in the back of my brain and only presents itself on rare occasions.

I handle my fears so much better now than when cancer was new and fresh and raw. My fears hardly ever cause me real anxiety, they don't cripple my mental functioning anymore, and more than ever, they serve to focus my efforts in life. When fear strikes, it's usually a wake-up call of sorts, a reminder to leave no stone unturned, a summons to keep on living.

The article goes on to list the author's seven fears, everything from a recurrence of the disease to a fear of dying at a young age. These are the same fears that plagued my mother, and I'm sure many women who have had a brush with breast cancer.