Cancer

Jeff Healey, 41, a rock and jazz guitar whiz who rose to stardom with the platinum-selling 1988 album "See the Light" and its hit single "Angel Eyes," died Sunday of cancer at a Toronto hospital. Healey, who underwent numerous operations in recent years to remove tumors from his lungs and leg, had battled cancer since age 1, when a rare form of retinal cancer known as retinoblastoma claimed his eyesight. The Canadian-born Healey was a prodigy, learning to play guitar at the age of 3 and performing at 6. He developed a distinctive style of playing, holding the guitar in his lap like a flat-neck dobro, while fretting with his hand atop the instrument's neck.

Elizabeth Edwards, the wife of former Democratic presidential contender John Edwards, said she and John McCain have one thing in common: "Neither one of us would be covered by his health policy." Edwards lodged her criticism of the presumptive Republican presidential nominee's proposal Saturday at the annual meeting of the Assn. of Health Care Journalists. Under McCain's plan, insurance companies "wouldn't have to cover preexisting conditions like melanoma and breast cancer," she said.

It was the kind of comeback that teenager Ryan Freydig had hoped for during his 100 hours of chemotherapy. Diagnosed with testicular cancer two days after Christmas, the Hemet high school senior had to put much of his life on hold. That included his role as a starting pitcher for the West Valley High School Mustangs baseball team.

Sen. Arlen Specter (R-Pa.) said in a statement that he has had a recurrence of Hodgkin's disease, which is a cancer of the lymph system. Specter, 78, underwent treatment for the same type of cancer in 2005 and was later given a clean bill of health.

Melanomas like those suffered by Sen. John McCain are more lethal than other types of skin cancers because the pigment-producing melanocytes that produce them are actually not skin cells at all. Though the basal cells and squamous cells that are responsible for the most common types of skin cancer are integral parts of the skin from the beginning, melanocytes are visitors -- nerve cells that are produced in the spinal column during infancy before migrating to the skin.

Like almost everyone their age, young adult cancer survivors are into the Web. The following sites help them deal with the aftermath of cancer: * A national list of transition programs for childhood and adult cancer survivors is available at www.acor.org/ped-onc /treatment/surclinics.html. These programs help adults piece together treatment records and develop preventive care-plans. * seventyk.org Named for the 70,000 new young adults diagnosed with cancer in the U.S.

As young survivors of the modern era of cancer treatment enter the third and fourth decades of their lives, they find themselves poster children for the hope of medical progress -- and also for the toll taken by cancer's toxic treatments. The cure rate for childhood cancer is one of 20th century medicine's greatest success stories. Before 1970, few children with cancer made it. Today, nearly 80% of children who have cancer are cured, according to the American Cancer Society's 2008 statistics.

When Patti Waggoner saw a baby-size tuxedo displayed in a department store, she didn't think "wedding" or "baptism" or any sort of celebration. "My first thought was, 'Oh, a little casket suit,' " she says. There's a bleak side to this 36-year-old survivor of Hodgkin's lymphoma from Valley Village. Her skin is pale, her nails painted black. Tattoos circle her ankles and run down her back and upper arms: of pirates, bats and the seven deadly sins.

For ROBERTO MARTINEZ, 21, cancer has been a test of faith, an opportunity to change direction based on a profound understanding of what's truly important. He was diagnosed with testicular cancer at the age of 17 and has just passed the five-year mark, which theoretically puts him safely in the "cure" zone. Not that it was easy, hearing he had cancer. "I was shocked," he says. "Cancer so young. Why me? Why did I get cancer?" As he tried to figure out that mystery, he started to see life in a new way. He had been a good student at L.A.'s Cathedral High School.

In JUNE 2005, Yosef Eliezrie was 19, a rabbinical student in New Jersey. He had just arrived in Vilna, Lithuania, on a student outreach program in which one of his responsibilities was to be supervising a kosher kitchen. Cancer was the last thing on his mind. He was going to finish school and follow in his father's footsteps as a rabbi. Down the road, he was going to fall in love, marry and have a great big family. "At 19, you think you own the world," he says. "You think you have the whole thing planned."