November is Lung Cancer Awareness Month. Those of you who follow this column know that has been one of my issues since 2004, when my cousin, Becky, a non-smoker, was diagnosed with that pernicious disease.

Since then, I've quoted statistics to show that lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer deaths in the United States. I've explained that it kills more women each year than breast cancer, and that it kills more men each year than prostate cancer.

I've complained about the lack of funding and the lack of press. I've written about the stigma attached to that disease and insisted that nobody "deserves" lung cancer.

I've covered fund raisers, interviewed lung cancer survivors and the doctors who treat them. And here it is, November again. What direction do I follow now?

Becky and I excel at those long, woman-to woman conversations. When we lived in the same city, we met for coffee. Now, with our get togethers reduced to twice a year, imagine the phone bills.

During a recent conversation, I asked if she had any ideas, any suggestions or new approaches for this year's lung cancer awareness columns. I said I didn't mind repeating the stats and facts. That's important information. But what am I missing? What do the readers need to know, I asked.

"Tell them about my wig," she said.

The purpose of Beck's call was to tell me she had had a great day. I knew that recent cancer treatments had caused weight loss. Clothing hung from her body. But that day, she had the energy to go shopping and buy new outfits. She was pleased "they actually fit."

I knew aggressive cancer treatments yet to come meant she would lose her hair. She and her daughters had researched and discovered Brian Blanchard's salon, where consultants help cancer patients through hair loss. Fully-customized wigs were available.

Beck had called to tell me how well her consultation had gone, how pleased she was and what her new hairdo would look like. She is recreating her look from summer 2006: straight, chin-length, a side part with bangs. "Good choice," I said, "New clothes, new hair, new you."

When Becky was first diagnosed, I told her I was not going to ask about her cancer. My lack of questioning was not to be interpreted as a lack of concern. Dealing with the disease would take up enough of her time and energy. If it was all right with her, I'd shelve the topic and talk about other things.

However, she could initiate conversations about her cancer at any time. No holding back. I made her promise she'd keep me informed. I needed to stay on top of the situation. I needed to be there for her, the way she has always been there for me.

Taking a "time-out" from cancer verges on impossible. The life-threatening disease is layered with life-saving surgeries and drugs. But each solution carries its own set of problems. Many side effects, clearly visible, are unforgiving. They draw attention to the cancer and take away the person's right to privacy.

The afternoon that Becky and I talked about her "great day," she mentioned that it seemed strange to be worried about hairdos and new clothes when her main concern was staying alive. We talked about looking good and self esteem and being tired of looking sick.

"Day-to-day, I have to look in the mirror," she said. "Getting some new clothes and a wig, I gave myself permission to move forward and do something about how I looked. This is one thing I can control to some degree."

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The American Cancer Society offers "Look Good ... Feel Better" at Loma Laird Cancer Resource Center at Nacogdoches Medical Center. For information, call 634-2940.

For information about Brian Blanchard Salon, visit wigsforcancerprivacy.com or call 888-907-0770.

Judy Morgan is a contributing writer.