While sitting in the lobby of my hospital's MRI center on Friday -- time for the annual breast MRI -- I found myself a bit irritated by an appointment mix-up that kept me waiting much too long for a procedure that in and of itself is no real treat.

As I waited to bare my breasts and dangle them through square cut-outs on an MRI table, I flipped through a few ancient magazines -- why are lobby offerings so old? -- and as is usually the case when I read just about any publication, out jumped some cancer news.

So maybe the wait was worth it. Without it, I wouldn't have found this enlightening bit of information, this thought for today.

Now I warn you -- this item I am about to share comes from an October 2005 issue of Parenting magazine, so it's a bit outdated. But it still holds some truth. And if you remember nothing else from this message, I hope you'll take to heart this one lesson -- women tend to overestimate their chances of developing breast cancer.

Think about this:

• 46%: What women estimate is their lifetime risk of getting breast cancer
• 13%: Their actual risk

The build-up to 2006 was a bit uncertain for me. At the end of 2004, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and set my sights on short-term survival, moment by moment, day by day. I wasn't sure 2005 -- in its entirety -- was a guarantee so I tried not to look too far ahead. I focused on the completion of each of the year's cancer steps -- surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, the beginning of a year-long Herceptin therapy, and so much more -- and somehow, I survived the whole ordeal. And the whole year.

I made it through 2005, and I have almost made it through 2006 -- a year marked by a cancer slow-down, a more normal existence. Moment by moment, day by day, the burden of cancer loosened it's grip on me. And as I begin to reflect on the year that has all but passed before my eyes, I realize it turned out just fine. Here are seven reasons why.

• On May 19, 2006, my very first post published on The Cancer Blog. What a thrill it was -- and still is -- to find myself engaged in a useful pursuit as a result of my own cancer experience.
  

• On June 28, 2006, the last drops of Herceptin made their way through my body, marking the conclusion of 17 doses of this hopefully life-saving potion.

• On September 15, 2006, my port came out, signaling my acceptance of a life without drug treatment, my faith that I will never again need a foreign object sewn under my skin.

• On December 6, 2006, 18 months of counseling came to a close. Armed with skills to cope with all sorts of emotional issues, I am marching forward, free of the disabling anxiety and free-flowing tears that first landed me in the counseling chair.

• For much of 2006, I have been a student of fitness training, pushing myself physically in search of better health. It's not always easy, I'm not always motivated, and I am known to whine a bit -- but still, I am happier just knowing I am working toward sustained health.
  

• Throughout the entire year, I have walked away from every medical check-up and follow-up with a clean bill of health. I hear the longer someone survives cancer, the less likely the disease is to return. Happily, I have two years of survival under my belt.

• Ever since my diagnosis, I have been reaching for others with journeys similar to mine. First, I reached for support and guidance and reassurance. Then, I reached to offer my own version of support and guidance and reassurance. The year 2006 has been full of rich connections, found only because of cancer. Reaching makes me feel good.

Yes, the year 2006 turned out just fine.

Yesterday it was announced that Lost in the Fog -- 2005 Eclipse Award winner as sprinter of the year -- will be put down in the next ten days because of spleen cancer that has spread to his abdomen.

"Unfortunately, we found two other tumors in his abdomen,'' said veterinarian, Don Smith. "There is one in his membrane and ligament, about the size of an egg. Unfortunately there is another along his back and its about the size of a football.''

An almost million dollar winner in his short career, the pain will determine when they decide to end the life of this majestic and powerful champion. They are planning on taking Lost in the Fog back to Golden Gate Fields so that he can rest comfortably in his own stall.

"We'll keep him in the stall for a week or 10 days," trainer Greg Gilchrist said. "This would be the best thing to do, get him back with his groom. I just couldn't leave him up there (at Davis) to be euthanized and thrown in the bone yard." Lost in the Fog's remains will be cremated and sent back to Southern Chase Farm in Ocala, Florida where he was raised.

Last year, Lost in the Fog made seven cross-country trips and won eight stakes, including the King's Bishop. Lost in the Fog won 10 races in a row to begin his career and 11 of 14 starts while earning $978,099.

"What a warrior -- I've never had a horse that comes close to this one," stated Gilchrist.

Apple CEO Steve Jobs delivered a commencement speech at Stanford University on June 12, 2005. It was about following curiosity and intuition, about looking back and connecting the dots in life, about beginnings and endings, about death. Jobs, a survivor of pancreatic cancer, knows a thing or two about facing death. And the words he chose to relate his life-threatening experience to a crowd full of hopeful graduates are powerful and inspiring. I could paraphrase his message -- but surely something would be lost in my translation. So here is a bit of what he said -- word for word.

This evening, Miss Kentucky Tara Elizabeth Conner, was chosen as MISS USA 2006. Ms. Conner is a 20 year-old from Russell Springs, Kentucky who is studying business administration at Somerset Community College.

Since 1998, Donald Trump's Miss Universe Organization and Miss USA have been actively involved in support of breast cancer and ovarian cancer survivors. Each year, Miss USA raises money for nationally recognized breast and ovarian cancer organizations such as the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, the National Breast Cancer Coalition, Ovarian Cancer Research Fund, and Gilda's Club.

MISS USA 2005, Chelsea Cooley, crowned her successor at the conclusion of the two-hour primetime telecast, before an estimated worldwide viewing audience of more than 250 million.