The following post is one of a series of posts appearing Monday through Friday on The Cancer Blog. This feature -- Today, I am grateful -- allows me to share with readers my appreciation for all the treasures in my life, both big and small. In my post-cancer world, I find It healing for my soul to be mindful of the good in my life. It is my pleasure to share my gratitude with you.

When I think about how much my mom rescued me during my breast cancer treatment, I always land at the fact that she watched my little boys for 35 days in a row while I transported myself to and from radiation therapy. That wasn't all she did -- she also accompanied me to surgery, sat with me during chemotherapy treatments, parked herself by my bedside when I was hospitalized, dried my tears, fed me, hugged me, encouraged me, and loved me.

My mom helped me survive cancer. She is my hero.

Today, I am grateful for my mom.

It's been so long I can barely remember the cause of the family rift that kept me separated from an aunt, an uncle, and cousins for many years. All that remains clear is that a once-close family split apart because of disagreement and hurt feelings and that my grandma -- the glue that held this family together for more than 50 years -- was heartbroken. She did everything she could to repair the damage of her splintered family. But despite begging, pleading, and continued prayers, reconciliation seemed impossible -- until it became evident this sweet woman was about to die.

The progress was slow and began with a rallying of family members at my grandma's bedside. She was somewhat incoherent at the time, and I'm not quite sure if she realized her broken family was on the mend. But I hope she knows, in some heavenly way, that she is the one who ultimately brought everyone together.

After her passing, we all gathered for her memorial service. We took turns spreading her ashes at a tree planted in her honor. We talked and visited and laughed and ate. We broke the ice and opened the door for further interaction. It was refreshing to mourn the loss of Gram without overriding tension and conflict.

I'm not sure if family relations would have continued without what happened next. I suspect we may have all returned to our lives and gone our separate ways, happy we had reconnected but still missing the closeness we once experienced. But then cancer entered our lives, shocked us all, and gave us all reason to stay in touch.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer not long after my grandma died. And the same people who came to her bedside came to my rescue in ways I never would have imagined in the heat of battle. The same people who for years were absent from my life were the ones offering me support and encouragement and love. They helped me get better.

Once I was better, life returned to a somewhat normal routine. And maybe we would have routinely slipped back into our selfish ways. But illness struck again, requiring we all step back up to the plate.

My uncle, who has lived with diabetes for many years, was faced this year with losing his foot. Thankfully, he found specialists who gave him hope and reason to travel every month for several months to a clinic in my city, where eight family members live and where options never before available to him became a reality -- both medically and personally.

My uncle is doing well, walking on his foot with the aid of a brace. And our family is doing well, as a result of frequent visits, lunches, and continued laughs.

It took death and disease to bridge the gap that existed for much too long between the members of my family. And just this weekend, after spending a glorious weekend with my long-lost cousins, I realized we have possibly arrived back where we once started -- before whatever led to our disagreement and hurt feelings drove us apart.

I believe Gram is smiling down upon us at this very moment, content at last that her three beautiful children -- and their children and their children -- are again a happy family.

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.

Can you teach empathy and compassion? If you are a parent, the answer is yes. As a parent, you teach empathy and compassion to your children by the example of treating them with empathy and compassion; and in involving them in acts of compassion in the care for others. I believe caring for a pet in the home is one of the traditional ways of helping children learn empathy and compassion. Another is family participation in volunteerism and community-betterment projects.

Can you teach empathy and compassion to medical students as a university course? Medical schools are willing to try, and are hiring actors to train doctors good bedside manners when they have to give bad news. "A lot of these medical students are brainiacs who can absorb all the information they learn in class, but they don't know how to talk to people,'' says Joshua Stager, program coordinator at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York.

I think that is an over-generalization, and slightly less-than-generous statement in reference to the character and demeanor of all medical students -- but then again -- if you have watched the television show House, maybe a course in bedside manner is a very good thing for some medical students. Medical schools see enough of a need for education in empathy and compassion they are requiring these classes as part of medical training. Interestingly, a new section of a medical student's national licensing exam now includes tests on bedside manner.