What if the lab results thought to be our own really were not? Hey, mistakes happen in all walks of life. And labs are not immune. But there are a few steps we can take to protect ourselves. Here they are:

• Ask your doctor about the lab he or she uses. It should be accredited and approved by the College of American Pathologists, a sign the lab meets high standards.
  
  
• If you can see the test tube or slide, make sure your name is on it. If you are in the hospital, make sure your wristband is accurate.

David L. Katz, MD, responds to a reader in the September 2007 issue of The Oprah Magazine about the merits of eating soy in relation to preventing cancer. His response causes me to pause even more about jumping on any diet bandwagon.

Katz says we should eat soy foods -- just not too much because the evidence linking soy to breast cancer, for example, is mixed.

In comparing soy-eating Japanese women with American women who eat very little soy, researchers find lower rates of breast cancer in the Japanese women. But in a test tube, soy's plant estrogens can speed cancer cell growth. Maybe soy behaves differently in the body than it does in a tube. Or maybe soy has both negative and positive effects on breast cancer. Perhaps it's not soy at all. It could be that the populations eating soy are benefiting from not eating something else, like meat -- the saturated fat found in red meat has been linked to higher cancer rates. Replacing steak with something else may be the protective key.

UK researchers have developed a 3D laboratory model of human breast cancer, specifically ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS). The model, complete with normal cells and tumor cells, should help experts understand how the disease develops in its early stages, and it could replace the need for experiments in animals.

About one in five breast cancers in the UK start out as DCIS. Researchers wanted to learn more about how the early cancerous changes in cells develop into larger tumors, and they chose to fashion a 3D test tube model because it is more complex than a layer of cells in a Petri dish.

Once this experiment is proved successful, it could reduce and perhaps replace animal studies.

"With breast cancer, there is an urgent need to move away from animal research models because their similarity to human cancer can be so poor," says one expert who explains this model could help revolutionize breast cancer research -- because unreliable research costs time, money, and lives, both animal and human lives.

Cancer of the esophagus is one of the fastest rising cancers in the United States -- but the common screening test, both expensive and risky, is not widely used. Thankfully, a newer option, around since the mid-90s, is quicker and easier and is catching on around the country.

Trans-Nasal Esophagoscopy (TNE) is the better option, and it works like this: a doctor numbs the nose, inserts a thin, flexible tube -- no bigger than a pencil -- through the nostril and into the esophagus, removes a bit of tissue for biopsy purposes, takes a few pictures, and pulls the tube back out through the nostril. The patient gets to watch it all on a monitor and gets to depart from the procedure with no ill effects.

Traditional esophagus cancer screening involves a similar tube that is inserted through the mouth. Due to the gag reflex, patients are sedated. While there are often no complications from the procedure itself, the intravenous sedation can cause problems.

"You don't need those risks to see what's going on," says one doctor, who reports that esophageal cancer responds very well when caught early by tools like TNE.

A colonoscopy camera lets the physician check for abnormalities inside the colon. These can include cancerous or precancerous growths. The doctor guides a flexible scope though the colon, that can take about seven minutes, he then spends on average another six minutes withdrawing the scope evaluating inside of the colon.

The New England Journal of Medicine published a study that found colonoscopies that took a longer time to complete found more abnormal growths. Faster testing was shown to miss some abnormalities. Doctors who spent more than six minutes withdrawing the colonoscopy tube found more abnormal growths than those who withdrew it in less than six minutes.

The study did not have a conclusive answer as to exactly long physicians should spend withdrawing the tube. Other experts say to keep it in the range of six to ten minutes.

I know this is the last thing you want to say to your physician-- "Can you keep that up there a bit longer please?', but it might just save your life.

I didn't know what was coming when I plopped myself down in the waiting room of an Ear, Nose, and Throat clinic yesterday -- which is a good thing. Had I known what doctors would do to me, I may have run the other way. I may have learned to live with the pain I was experiencing each time I swallowed food. But I waited patiently, aware that doctors would "scope" my esophagus, mildly certain the procedure could be uncomfortable, completely unprepared for the full "scope" experience.

I swallowed a pill on Friday night -- not even a whole pill, just a half of one pill -- and it hurt when it went down my throat. I've had the feeling before, a sensation like the pill got stuck, but the discomfort has always gone away within a few hours. This time, it lasted. It hurt to swallow saliva. It hurt to swallow food. It just hurt. So after three days, I took myself to the clinic -- with the subtle worry that cancer was settling in my esophagus.

I know rationally that every ache and pain I experience is not cancer. But I've had cancer. And so I constantly battle a nagging fear lodged deep in my head that reminds me cancer is always a possibility, that cancer is often a shocking outcome of a routine little test for a simple little health concern.

I do not have cancer. I do not have cancer of the throat, voice box, esophagus, or stomach. That's the good news. The scope revealed -- via a tiny camera that traveled through my body -- nothing but healthy tissue. That makes me happy. The test did not make me happy.

I now know the scope is a long, thin tube that enters the body through one nostril. Ouch. It travels into the throat. Ouch. The patient swallows when it reaches the throat to assist in maneuvering it down further. Ouch. The scope then makes its way past the voice box, though the esophagus, and into the stomach. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. The travels are all displayed on a monitor, and I actually got a glimpse of these body parts -- during the split second when I was able to control my gagging, loosen my grip on the arms of the exam chair, and open my clinched eyes. So I saw for myself that everything looks healthy -- just before the tube was pulled right back through all these parts, leaving me with a very sore throat.

Now that I am home and have talked with a few people, I hear that some patients are unconscious for this procedure. They are completely unaware of the horrors of the scope. I got a few sprays to numb my nose and throat and drank a thick cocktail of lidocaine -- but I did not get the luxury of unconsciousness. And in the end that is okay. I got to see what was happening. I got to hear the doctor's revelation that nothing major is wrong. I got to witness the wonder of medical technology. I got to prove to myself that I can handle a little discomfort in exchange for a clean bill of health. And I got to learn that I have a bit of acid reflux. And now I have to squash that nagging fear that reminds me of the literature out there suggesting a link between acid reflux and cancer.

Screenings for colorectal cancer offer more than a chance for early treatment -- they offer the chance to avoid cancer completely. The disease usually starts with growths called polyps that can take a decade to turn cancerous. If polyps are found and removed, cancer can be avoided altogether. Yet many are avoiding the screening. And polyps that go undetected can turn to a cancer that can lurk silently in anyone -- especially during middle age and beyond. And black Americans are especially at risk.

Almost 42 million Americans over the age of 50 are not getting checked for colorectal cancer -- the nation's No. 2 cancer killer. Perhaps it's the financial burden that comes with the life-saving procedure. Now in five states, a government-funded program is offering free testing for the poor. But still, many will fall through the cracks in many states. And while Medicare pays for screenings, this federal program is for people 65 and older -- a long wait for someone at age 50 who needs the test but does not have insurance.

Perhaps it's the part of the body under study that steers people away. Perhaps it's the manner in which the test is performed -- a long, flexible tube is used to visually inspect the colon -- that turns heads in the wrong direction. While the financial burden is a valid deterrent, other worries or fears should be put to rest. The test is not all that bad, says one doctor who had a colonoscopy himself. The worst part of the whole experience may be the liquid mixture that is consumed prior to the test that cleans out the system -- minor discomfort really in the scope of the alternative. Cancer.

Colonocopies are recommended just once every 10 years. And nearly 60 percent of deaths from colorectal cancer can be prevented if each person over the age of 50 finds some way to make this screening happen. And if not this screening, there are other options -- like a fecal test that is done annually but is more more affordable and can be quite effective too. So consider your options. And make a choice.

Greg Williams got the idea for a line of lip gloss with a .46-carat, manmade diamond inside the tube after watching high rollers at casinos buying fancy cocktails with diamond garnishes. When Williams and his wife, Gail Hill Williams of ACI Consulting Group, thought about ways to expand their company's outreach projects, they decided to focus on raising money for ovarian cancer and felt the lip gloss with a diamond inside might be the best choice for the new project.

Smooches Kissing Gloss, made from natural ingredients with a berry-mint flavor, sells for $105 dollars and up to 30 percent of the profits go to the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance, an organization devoted to placing ovarian cancer education, policy and research issues on the agendas of lawmakers and health care leaders. Williams feels that ovarian cancer does not receive the same attention that breast cancer does, and he is hoping his new lip gloss will change that for ovarian cancer. Right now you can find Smooches Kissing Gloss at the Adam Broderick Salon and Spa in Ridgefield, CT., but Williams is planning on getting the lip gloss to high-end department stores, such as Bloomingdale's and Nordstrom's. Ovarian cancer is called the silent killer because usually there are no obvious symptoms until the disease reaches an advanced stage. 

Photo credit: Aaron Flaum