If you've ever visited the website My Breast Cancer Network, part of the Health Central conglomerate of health and medical information, you know the appeal of this site is its insightful navigation menu, comprised of three helpful locators -- Find, Manage, and Connect.

With a click on the Find button, you can search answers to questions, check symptoms, and locate resources. Choose Manage and you can take action, achieve goals, and resolve problems. If you wish to get advice, find support, and share your experiences, take a simple tour through the Connect community.

My Breast Cancer Network currently invites all viewers to connect with one another through a new feature: Show Us Your Chemo Style. You can simply visit this portion of the site and view photos submitted by others. Or you can submit a photo and caption of yourself, a friend, a family member. My Breast Cancer Network says it like this:

What does it mean to be confident during and after chemotherapy? Are you proud to be bald and beautiful? Does a wig, scarf or hat make sense for you and your style? We'd also love to see your new hair, as it grows back in. Share your favorite photos!

I did it -- go take a look -- and you can too.

My breast cancer friend Adriene -- who I wrote about on May 19 -- e-mailed me today about a friend of a friend who was just diagnosed with breast cancer. This friend -- Jen -- is 31 years old and just yesterday had a lumpectomy. Adriene asked if I could be in touch with Jen since, like her, I am young and I am a breast cancer survivor and I had a lumpectomy. So far, we are somewhat alike. And depending on the results of Jen's pathology report, we may be even more alike -- if she follows a path anything like mine that included chemotherapy and radiation therapy and Herceptin therapy -- or our paths might diverge from one another. Regardless, I feel a connection to this woman, much like I do with anyone with cancer whose path I cross, anyone who is sent my way, anyone who finds me for the sole purpose of support.

So I told Adriene in my return e-mail, "Yes, I will contact Jen." And I have already sent her an e-mail. And I hope when she reads it that she finds a trace of comfort, a hint of encouragement, a glimpse of hope that can somehow transform scared souls into confident spirits. I hope that she emerges from under the rock of breast cancer. Like I did. Like Adriene did.

I am always a bit nervous before I head out for a check-up with my oncologists. I have two of them -- a medical oncologist who delivered my chemotherapy and a radiation oncologist who delivered my radiation therapy. Today I see my radiation oncologist and she will examine my breasts and manipulate my breasts and feel my underarms and check for lymphedema -- swelling in the arm due to removed lymph nodes -- and she will ultimately determine whether or not I have anything to worry about at this time. It's been just over one year since my last radiation treatment and six months since I saw this doctor for a follow-up.

So I am a little apprehensive about what I might hear -- because it's always possible that something does not feel right, that something is questionable, that something has returned. I am mostly confident that I am okay but there is still an unknown that lies ahead of me. An unknown that in a matter of a few hours will be known. And I will either learn that I am in fact okay. Or I will begin another spiral into the what-if-it's-cancer scenario. Only time will tell.