Dr. Richard Alexander, a surgical oncologist at the Greenebaum Cancer Center at the University of Maryland, worked on the treatment at the National Institutes of Health. The chemo targets melanoma that has metastasized to the liver.

Linda Campbell of Lexington, North Carolina, was diagnosed with ocular melanoma, a rare cancer, and endured many treatments to save her eye, according to a CNN story. Two years ago, after dealing with one recurrence, Campbell thought she had beaten cancer. Last year, though, she had a setback: she had lesions on her liver. Her melanoma had spread.

Campbell's liver was riddled with cancer; doctors were unable to count how many spots she had.

As her prognosis was poor, she entered an experimental treatment that directs an extremely high dose of chemotherapy to wherever cancer is growing.

Called percutaneous hepatic perfusion, or PHP, it uses a chemo dose 10 times stronger than patients could normally tolerate. Using specially designed catheters and filters to apply the drug only to the liver, PHP decreases the chance of damaging other organs and minimizes potential side effects.

Patients can tolerate this method because the liver is resilient, Alexander told CNN. The liver, unlike other organs, can withstand huge blasts of chemotherapy. Doctors also seal off some vessels stemming from the liver and flowing to the rest of the body, then filter the chemo outside the body. The liver is the only organ getting the poison, which usually kills healthy and cancerous cells.

Those in treatment get a drug, Melphalan, for 30 minutes every four weeks, in an operating room while the patient is under anesthesia. A catheter containing the drug is threaded up a major artery in the patient's groin into the liver's main artery. The major vein behind the liver receives a second catheter, and balloons on the catheter are inflated to direct all blood flowing from the liver into a filter outside the body. The filter removes almost 90 percent of the chemo from blood, and the blood is returned to the patient via a catheter in a major neck vein.

"This technique involves only a couple of small holes (in the skin) to place the catheters, so patients generally recover quickly and are released from the hospital in a day or two," said Dr. Fred Moeslein, a radiologist at the University of Maryland School of Medicine who does the treatment.

As with any chemo, side effects may include fatigue and lower red and white blood cell counts. Most patients can have four to six treatments.

PHP is an important development because people with Campbell's cancer typically don't live long after diagnosis. Just under 70,000 new cases of melanoma will be discovered this year in the U.S., estimated the American Cancer Society. Melanoma isn't the most common skin cancer, but it's the most fatal.

About 2,500 new cases of ocular melanoma are diagnosed each year. The cancer is often deadly if it spreads to the liver, which is the most common place for it to travel.

"Once melanoma - in particular ocular melanoma - has spread to the liver, it can be very aggressive and extremely difficult to treat," Alexander told CNN. "Patients really don't have a lot of options, so we're very hopeful that this new targeted chemotherapy will prove to be effective."

Initial results look promising. "Half of the people in the phase one study had their tumors shrink as a result of the treatment," said Alexander. "In some, the tumors have disappeared altogether."

Campbell has concluded her treatments; only a few spots remain on her liver. Her doctors are confident that they can treat them with traditional therapy.

The University of Maryland Medical Center is one of 13 sites conducting phase three trials on PHP. The study is headed by the National Cancer Institute. H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center and Research Institute in Tampa is the only Florida site.

For the full list, visit http://www.livercancertrials.com.

The surgeon spoiled a prostate cancer patient's radiation-seed implant by placing them in his bladder. Under federal rules, regulators checked into the error, but Kao merely rewrote his surgical plan to show he'd implanted 40 seeds in the prostate. The patient had to undergo a second procedure but Kao failed again, embedding seeds into the rectum. Kao again rewrote the surgical plan and regulators didn't complain.

No one knows for sure if the failures caused any deaths.

Every accredited hospital has peer review, or colleagues examining each other's work; this didn't happen at the Philly hospital. Three regulatory agencies, including the Joint Commission that accredits hospitals and the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, which regulates the use of all nuclear materials, did not intercede.

Veterans officials said that Kao no longer works at the Philadelphia hospital and would not return. They also admitted they had failed to supervise the unit.

"I’m not easily shaken,” said Dr. Leon S. Malmud, chairman of a nuclear commission advisory committee, in May. “But this is a very anxiety-provoking story."

If that unit were at a university, the feds would have suspended the program while conducting an investigation. In May 1999, the government temporarily shut down federally funded research on humans at Duke University Medical Center, one of the nation's largest and most prestigious medical research institutions, after investigators decided that Duke could not guarantee their safety.

The Duke federal license suspension to conduct human research was probably the largest ever in terms of the number of studies, people affected and the dollars at stake. Back then, Duke received about $175 million a year from the federal government for medical research.

Earlier in 1999, problems emerged at the Los Angeles VA Hospital, sparking concern that federal protections for human research subjects were inadequate or poorly enforced.

Each university performing research has an Institutional Review Board. The board reviews all proposed human research to ensure it's scientifically and ethically suitable and meets all federal regulations.

Investigators found that Duke's board wasn't keeping enough written documents, explaining how it decided to allow studies to continue.

Perhaps the feds have too many agencies overseeing this vital research. The government should devise a streamlined system, possibly based at the National Institutes of Health or the Centers for Disease Control, to regulate all research institutions. Otherwise, mistakes will continue and critically ill people can't benefit from the latest treatments.

The first part is no surprise, really. Cities are filled with pollution. If you're a smoker, you might as well concede that sooner or later you'll be dealing with cancer, heart disease or emphysema. Secondhand smokers are probably at higher risk in a city, too.

In a small town, you're more likely to know your neighbors and a doctor who can refer you for testing. Many people in small towns still live near or with their extended families who will look out for each other.

 The intriguing question is why aren't African Americans getting tested sooner? Obviously, if they are poor, they are less likely go to a doctor for regular check-ups.

Another ACS study found that while white women get breast cancer more often, black women are more likely to have it before they're 40. They are also less likely to survive it. While 90 percent of white women survive at least five years after diagnosis, blacks have a 77 percent rate.

The difference is mainly attributed to early detection. 

African Americans face several barriers to health care, including inadequate access, lack of health information and misconceptions about screening.

Some Emory University researchers initiated a public awareness campaign in Atlanta. Trained advocates visited churches, workplaces and health fairs to discuss misconceptions about breast cancer screening and encourage regular mammograms. Cancer survivors helped people diagnosed with breast cancer get treatment, assisting them with financial needs and support services. Most important, the survivors encourage women to keep their doctors' appointments.

The model could be duplicated in any major city, researchers say. Why wait for the program to come to you?

Why not spread the word at your church or office? When you get a mammogram, let your coworkers know and ask if they've had one. You could make an appointment together. Some women even make an afternoon of it, renting a limo and going for drinks afterward. It only takes 3 minutes to get tested.

That 3 minutes is miniscule compared to how many months or years might be cut from your life if you don't get tested. Think about it.

He went to dentists and at least one doctor who told him not to worry about it. It was a sore that didn't heal and the pain was excruciating. For three years, he listened to the experts tell him it was nothing. Finally, he saw an oral surgeon who did a biopsy.

Stage 4 tongue cancer. In six months, without the radical removal of his tongue, mandible and part of his neck tissue, he'd be dead, experts said. Good Lord.

We're talking about a Chicago man recognized as one of our best chefs. Last year, Kim Cattrall announced that he won the James Beard Foundation's Outstanding Chef award, arguably the biggie for chefs.

Not only was he lucky to be alive and still tasting his creations, he'd won this fantastic award. He and his Alinea restaurant partner Nick Kokonos have baked a book proposal, Life, on the Line. I'm sure that's only the working title.

Since I was diagnosed with an earlier-stage tongue cancer at 27, I'd give anything to ghostwrite that book.

After his diagnosis, Achatz searched the medical community for an oncologist who would do chemo and radiation before removing his livelihood. On his fifth try and running out of time, he found that specialist at the University of Chicago.

His book will carry a take-home message for us all. Fight for your survival. Don't accept the usual recommended surgery if it can provide future survivors with an alternative. Never give up on what's most important for your mental and physical health. 

Hannah is only 10 years old. Her chances of contracting breast cancer were a little better than winning the California lottery: one in 1 million. She is one of only a few hundred children ever diagnosed with it.

Her family, who shaved their heads in solidarity, says that she is coping courageously. Like most children with cancer, Hannah has a positive attitude and isn't languishing in the pity pool.

Now the girl from Fullerton, Calif., is part of the Cancer Club, the one that everyone dreads. Most of us wouldn't wish cancer on her worst enemy, much less an innocent child.

Who knows why God chose Hannah to deal with the fatigue and pain that comes with chemo? Her parents would probably rather have the disease themselves than watch their daughter endure it.

Meanwhile, Hannah will emerge as a stronger person, one of about 11 million cancer survivors. When she is cured, she can thank God that she is young and resilient and gave it 110 percent.  

Doctors emphasize that parents should not insist upon breast self-exams and mammograms for pre-teens. There's no take-home lesson here.

It should make young girls think, however, about their bodies and informing their parents about abnormal changes. Hannah's diagnosis first began when she complained of itchiness in her chest; her mother found a lump.

Hannah's mother took her to the doctor and the cancer was detected early. She has excellent chances, as high as 90 percent, for a full recovery. Who knows, one day Hannah could celebrate her 100th birthday.

The way to beat cancer is to get tested early and often. Don't be afraid of this beast.

Read more about Hannah's journey at her family's blog. You go, girl!

His mother even took the child and fled earlier this month after Minnesota child protection investigators and a judge determined the case to be medical neglect. The Hausers, who have eight children, are Catholics who believe in a "do no harm" philosophy espoused by American Indians known as the Nemenhah Band. This sect advocates natural healing methods.

Daniel has been called learning impaired and cannot read. He is completely dependent on his parents for guidance. He cannot vote, drive or marry legally.

Surprisingly enough, child neglect cases far outnumber physical abuse. Researchers estimate that as many as 80 percent of all cases reported are due to neglect, which includes not getting medical attention for an underage child.

Most states, of course, provide exemptions for families whose religious beliefs conflict with the child protection laws.

While the family should be able to decide what happens next, the fact is that with medical treatment, Daniel's survival chances are at least 90 percent. If he doesn't get the chemo and other recommended therapy, however, his chances are only 5 percent.

Psychologists say that Daniel, like many teens, is incapable of making treatment decisions. They say that Daniel is mostly focused on pleasing his parents. If he cannot read, how can he decide what to do?

While the adults in his life debate, Daniel is fighting a chest tumor pressing on his trachea, causing pain. He's probably having difficulty swallowing. He's running out of time.

Daniel had one round of chemo in February and needs five more, doctors say. What will happen if he doesn't get chemo? One thing's for sure. Alternative methods and prayers alone won't cure this illness; it's not going away unless he receives chemo, torturous as it is.

Chemo kills the good cells along with the bad. It's toxic but necessary if Daniel is to have any hope for survival.

Children survive cancer at amazingly high rates every day. They are resilient and have positive attitudes. Why won't Daniel's parents give him the best treatment available? What goes through their minds as they lie awake at night?

Painful and debilitating as it is, there's no question what will happen if Daniel doesn't receive chemo. He will die. 

She visited a camp for these kids in the late 1980s, when cancer was still considered a death sentence. Parents, teachers and adults in the grocery store would stare at these bald children in horror and shock.

The children, however, had other ideas. They talked about friends who did drugs. An 18-year-old man with friends on drugs told them: "You wanna do drugs? Do chemo for a year. It'll give you the same effect and make you feel just as lousy."

Although she'd been resistant to writing about the children, she was touched by their honesty and humor. Bombeck published I Want to Grow Hair, I Want to Grow Up, I Want to Go to Boise: Children Surviving Cancer in 1989. She donated all proceeds to the American Cancer Society and other health organizations.

"Humor and optimism had kept these kids in the mainstream of life," she wrote. "Perhaps laughing and believing in themselves was a major part of their survival. These were kids who had every intention of living long enough to go to Disneyland, drive their mothers crazy, live in bedrooms that should be condemned, go to the prom, eat pizza for breakfast and grow old."

The doctor becomes the VIP of any cancer patient's life. One girl sat on an exam table "popping jelly beans and gazing forlornly at a dead plant on the doctor's windowsill. Her observation: 'I hope he's better at taking care of people than he is his plants.' "

Our attitudes about cancer have changed tremendously since Erma wrote her book over 20 years ago. We no longer think that cancer is contagious. Most of us no longer call cancer patients victims. It's the second leading cause of death, but people are surviving over five and 10 years at phenomenal rates, thanks to early detection and better treatments. Children are surviving cancer at rates as high as 94 percent for leukemia and 85 percent for brain tumors.

One thing hasn't changed, though. Children use humor and their fighting spirit to cope with cancer. Like healthy kids, they live in the moment. They find ways to bring some sense of normalcy and control back to their lives with laughter. They don't usually moan and groan and ask God why they've been so tormented.

After all, they're going to grow their hair back, grow up and go to Boise.

Fantastic. We learned that Farrah is way more than a pretty face and gorgeous thick hair. That's how I always thought of her, at least. That Charlie's Angel with everything in the world. Men adored her physical beauty, tacking up that sexy poster everywhere and fantasizing about her soft, sweet voice. Women wanted to be her, pure and simple.

Yet cancer knows that no celebrity is immune. It taunts us, like the devil.

Watching Farrah praying and going through her days, exhausted and trying to cope with the stress of learning her cancer was returning to the original site and in her liver, I was awed by her spirit. Somehow, some way, she held it together even when her partner Ryan O'Neal, friend Alana Stewart and son Redmond O'Neal felt miserable, hopeless and lost.

That spirit is what sustains you through the cancer journey, the trek no one wants to take.

Dr. Wendy Schlessel Harpham was a doctor with three young children when she got the news no one wants. In 1990, the news yanked her across the great divide from physician to patient, as she writes in "Happiness in a Storm: Facing Illness and Embracing Life as a Healthy Survivor." She had non-Hodgkins lymphoma, a slow-growing cancer of the lymphatic system with no known cure.

As a doctor, she knew that what matters is not how long a person lives but how she lives. As she went through the dizzying cycle of tests, treatments and fatigue, she made a promise: "I will learn how to live my life most fully despite illness and maybe even because of it."

She was happily married and only 36, with children aged 2, 4 and 6, when she suffered from excruciating leg pain that led to her diagnosis.

"For them, I've always had blue eyes, brown hair and cancer," she writes. Their youthful honesty and outlook helped her shape her own attitude. As her oldest daughter Rebecca described, "Sometimes she's in treatment, and sometimes she's on a 'mission,' " her term for remission.

When Harpham's colleague also was diagnosed with lymphoma, Rebecca's response was: "You two can be survivors together!" Not exactly the way an adult reacts when he gets the news.

It's all part of being in the CC, the Cancer Club. It seeks you for membership relentlessly, whether you want to join or not. Like a nasty used-car salesman or a thief in the night.

As more and more people are learning, however, that devil can be dealt with. It may take your body parts, your hair, your physical beauty, but it can never rob you of your soul. You will always be the same person you were before cancer, only stronger. A new normal, as some of us like to call it.

Have you hugged your spirit today?

I like to say I was fortunate to have cancer at age 27. People stare at me, mouths agape. Who wants to be ill so young?

Because I survived. It wasn't a horrible cancer like what Farrah Fawcett is going through. I've seen my mother-in-law succumb to colon cancer. My dad is dealing with the same illness. I love to eat, so I can't imagine a worse deal.

Mine happened on my tongue first. A sore that wouldn't heal. Remember that. My dentist sent me to a specialist after three weeks. Talking to me as if I were a child, that doctor mentioned surgery, radiation ... it was a blur. He even notified me over the telephone. How kind of him. Not unusual, though, when I've shared stories with other Cancer Club members.

That's what I call it, the Cancer Club. There are over 10 million survivors in this country alone. CC membership does not discriminate. You can be 10 years old or 90, white, black or brown. You could be a doctor, steel worker, even a priest. No one is immune.

That's what makes it so scary. I never had a family history of head and neck cancer. I didn't smoke cigarettes or marijuana. Never touched either. I didn't drink a lot or take drugs. Well-meaning people asked me those questions over and over again.

Then there was that look of pity in their eyes. That was the worst. I didn't want their sympathy, I just wanted to be normal again. A woman with hopes and dreams, like everybody else on the planet. To succeed in my career, win some awards, maybe even a Pulitzer.

Not this, what was in 1989 still considered a death sentence. Not my specific cancer, although an intern had written in my file that I had a poor prognosis. Rather, I had an 85 percent chance of being cured. Being young with cancer is a blessing. You are otherwise very healthy. In fact, it's still considered an older person's illness. Which means that often it isn't detected soon enough.

When Kate Jackson described her friend Farrah's illness, she stressed the importance of early detection. Exactly. What a smart woman, I reveled. That is the answer.

We hate getting those tests. The colorectal one is incredibly icky, at least for me. Drinking that stuff and cleaning out your colon. Being hungry. Ugh. I once said we should make the terrorists do that one. It has to be worse than waterboarding.

Yet it is so worth it. Once you go through the test, you are so relieved. You know what you're dealing with. You're up to date, educated, better prepared to face your future. You can make plans with your children and friends. You're not hanging out in limbo anymore, waiting for test results. You can take control of your life again. You thank whatever God you pray to.

I was blessed that I had a dentist who sent me to that specialist. I ended up having surgery at the local cancer center which I cannot praise enough. Another gift is that one of the finest research centers in the world, H. Lee Moffitt Cancer Center and Research Institute, is right here in Tampa. My surgeon saved my life and continues to practice here in town. He cured a friend of mine a few years ago, a law enforcement officer with plenty of good years ahead of him.

For good or bad, this is now a cancer-related blog. Because we have to kick its ass.

OK, if you know me, you will recall that I voted for the old guy, John McCain. I call him the old guy because that was really the main problem that most people had with him. Even Chuck Norris said so.

Nevertheless, I attempt to be a fair and tolerant person. When Al Gore lost to George W. Bush in 2000, I told my Democratic friends and family to stop griping and accept Bush as our president. Since I remember that, I refuse to be a hypocrite and keep complaining that McCain is not our president. Even though he truly had the foreign policy and tons of other experience needed to do the job.

Not to be sarcastic and totally insincere, but I really am trying to like this guy, Barack Obama. He is our president, and we must support him. Unless he turns into a Richard Nixon. But I don't believe that will ever happen; Obama is too intelligent.

Every time I start to warm up to him, though, he shows his freaking arrogance again. Has the president ever run a business? I know the car companies have made many egregious errors, but ... come on. Cutting advertising dollars will hurt the economy.

My true colors are showing again. To see what's happening to even the once-proud-but-now-biased New York Times really pains me. One of my favorite TV shows when I was a kid was "Lou Grant." Much as I dislike the actor Ed Asner, I wanted to be like Billie and the other reporters on that show. Root out evil and expose it for what it really is. Tell the truth. No matter what the costs. Without investigative journalism, who will watch over the scary leaders who might destroy our country?

Obama's decision cuts to the heart of capitalism and what America is all about. Do we put our faith in company executives or a man we elected but don't really know much about? Hasn't Chrysler been in business far longer than Obama's been commander in chief? Surely the corporation has done something right or it wouldn't have sold millions of cars for so many years.

I have to confess, I love Chrysler. My dream car is the 300. The Crossfire is also a beautiful creature, not just a sportscar. I will probably be buried with my 2000 Jeep Grand Cherokee. It's the most reliable car I've ever driven, and I've had many cars.

Yeah, I drove just about every American car on the planet. I have the repair bills to prove it. A Ford Fairlane (yikes), a Chevy Cavalier wagon, even a Ford Escort. Yes, I suffered greatly. Believe it or not, I have never been the sole owner of a car built on foreign soil. Scary, isn't it?

I must admit I've been tempted by BMWs and Mercedes. Oooh, they are so gorgeous, so precise. I've flirted with a Jaguar, test driving it. Even an occasional Audi or Lexus might catch my eye. Yet for some reason, I have stuck with the red, white and blue.

When it comes to reliability, my three best performers were a 1979 Cadillac, a 1987 Chrysler Fifth Avenue and the Jeep. The Cadillac was probably T-boned in an accident before I cherished it, yet ran like a trouper and is probably still running somewhere on this planet, if there is a God.

My coworkers jeered at the Fifth Avenue, calling it Big Blue. Grandma's car, they were thinking. Yet it never left me alone on a busy road one early morning like the Ford Escort did. That car was an aberration. That's why Ford no longer makes them.

If you know anything about women, you'll know that we love cars that are reliable. We often fear breaking down somewhere late at night in the wrong part of town.

Chrysler, GM and Ford should be advertising and marketing reliable Big Blues to those women. After all, the minivan and the SUV are still two of the most popular vehicles ever sold in America.

Love it or leave it, that is America. Those big blue, sturdy cars. Embrace them.