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Editor's note: First in a series of stories on people and their cancer battles leading up to the Martin County Relay for Life on Saturday.

TRIMONT - On Ann Hilgendorf's front door hangs a hand-written sign: "No Debby Downer or Weeping Willy Looks allowed. We're going to win this!"

That pretty much sums up Hilgendorf's attitude about the lung cancer she was diagnosed with over a year ago, and which she has fought with ferocity, a positive attitude and a generous dollop of humor.

Hilgendorf first began feeling sick in February 2007. She was exhausted, short of breath, and had a difficult time walking from her front door to her car without getting winded. Her doctors in St. James told her it was pneumonia, and later "socked in pneumonia," but the months dragged on and she was getting worse, not better. Some days, she'd get out of bed, spend the day on a love seat and then head back upstairs to go to bed that night.

She remembers asking her doctor if it could be something else - cancer maybe? But the doctor dismissed it.

She finally insisted she wanted a blood test, her doctors agreed to do it and shortly thereafter she got her diagnosis: lung cancer, stage four. Stage four is the most serious stage of cancer, because the tumor has begun to spread to other organs. Quite an unlikely diagnosis considering she was in her mid-40s, never smoked and never worked around asbestos or radon. But there it was.

"I spent a week drinking margaritas and then started in on treatments," she said.

She and her husband, Kevin, shared the news with their daughters Tanna, a college student at the University of Minnesota, and Darby, then a junior in high school.

Ann had six rounds of chemotherapy drugs and developed a mantra that would carry her through: "It is what it is and I can't change that, I have to move forward."

In September, a scan revealed the tumor had shrunk by half, and she planned a trip to Rochester to have the tumor removed surgically. Unfortunately, doctors discovered cancer in her lymph nodes, which meant they couldn't operate, and instead started her on more chemo drugs in Mankato.

Meanwhile, in November, Ann's family and friends rallied and threw a benefit dinner for her in Trimont, where she has lived her entire life.

"It was a huge, huge turnout," she said. More than 800 people, many wearing "Ann Can!" T-shirts, came to eat and raise money for Ann and her family. Cars were lined up and snaking all the way out to Highway 4 from the school where the benefit was held. By the time Ann and Kevin were ready to eat, the food was gone.

"It was very overwhelming" to see all the people supporting her, she said.

"It's hard to have people do stuff for you. There aren't enough words; thank you isn't enough."

Friends and family have been a critical part of her battle. When Ann talks of her illness, she says "we": "When 'we' got the diagnosis" and "'We' are going to beat this." While the fight is ultimately hers, she has lots of devoted friends and family who surround her and hold her up.

After the benefit, she continued treatment, and went back to work when she could as a paraprofessional in an early childhood special education class in Fairmont. Tests in March of this year, though, revealed the tumor had started to grow again, and she quit work to focus on fighting her cancer.

"It wasn't my decision," she said, because she loves her job.

She'd run out of options for treatment in Mankato and Rochester. So she and Kevin went on the Internet.

They called a hospital in Texas to look into further treatment and were asked, "Well, if they couldn't help you at Mayo, what can we do?"

Then she and her husband found The Cancer Treatment Center of America, which has a location in Zion, Ill., on the Web.

When they told the person on the phone about Ann's situation, the center's representative said, "If you want to keep fighting, we'll fight with you." That's what she wanted to hear.

So at the end of April, Ann packed her bags and flew to Illinois for eight weeks of treatment. When she got there, she met a lot of people, most older than her, whom doctors had written off.

But there, she said, "everybody smiled. They were happy to be there. That was awesome."

Unlike many cancer patients, Ann has suffered few of the side effects such as sores, rashes, fatigue or nausea. The only outward sign that she's sick is the bald head she proudly sports.

Doctors there use the latest treatments, she said, and treat the whole person - the mind, body and spirit. They even picked her up at the airport in a limo and brought her to the center. She underwent more chemotherapy and radiation using a new kind of radiation machine.

She hasn't been home from Illinois long - there's still a "Welcome Home Ann" sign hanging on her garage. She'll go back in early August to be tested again to see how she's doing.

At this point, she feels and looks great - if it weren't for the bald head, you wouldn't know she'd been very ill.

"She's been amazing," said daughter Darby, 18, who graduated from high school in the middle of her Mom's stay in Illinois. "I know I wouldn't be this strong if it happened to me."

Ann and Darby say the experience has brought their family closer together, mellowed Ann out a bit, and they admit, brought a lot more laughter into the house.

When someone asks her to do something she'd rather not do, she'll make a face and say in a whiny voice, "I can't, I have cancer."

Barb Sandersfeld, the preschool teacher whom Ann assists, said she's tried it at work too, but Sandersfeld will answer back, "That doesn't work over here!" Sandersfeld said that even before Ann became ill, the two of them worked hard to help the children develop a sense of humor.

"You need that in life," she said. Now both see how it really does help in times of trouble.

"She's been the strong one," said Sandersfeld.

When she was first diagnosed, her kids asked, "Why you mom?" and she replied "Why not me? What makes me special?"

Ann occasionally will get down and feel sorry for herself, but says, "You can visit that place, but you can't stay there."

Her sense of humor and support from family and friends are always there to pull her through. They've grown accustomed to her bald head - she doesn't see any point in wearing scarves, hats, or wigs. "That's my mom!" says Darby. And they've learned to keep living life, with cancer as a part of it.

Now, not long back from her stay in Illinois, she answers the door bald, tan and smiling. She's already made it longer than the doctors first thought she would.

"It's out of my hands, out of the doctor's hands," she said. "Whatever happens, there'll be a reason for it."

Ann has a CarePages Web site where she posts photos and updates, and friends can post messages to her. Go to www.carepages.com and type in AnnHilgendorfCarePage to reach her site.