As I worked my way to the check-out cubicle at my oncology office yesterday, I carried with me the small stack of paperwork my doctor had handed me. There was a sheet denoting all my charges -- of course. There were orders for a mammogram and MRI. There was a summary of sorts about my visit. I handed each of these papers to the woman eagerly awaiting receipt of my money -- but before I let them leave my hands, I noticed a check mark on one of the papers. It was located right next to words: No cancer present, in remission. There were other words -- like cancer recurrence -- where my check mark could have landed. But it didn't. I ended up just where I want it be, just where I want it to stay.

A simple check mark brightened my day. It's not that I thought my cancer had returned. It's just that my every-three-month check-ups open the door for this possibility. I go to these appointments for a reason -- to identify cancer's current role in my life -- and so there's always a chance something will be discovered. But not today.

No cancer present, in remission. These are five of the most beautiful words ever written about me.