Chemo is tough stuff. That's what my oncologist told me the day I tracked her down on the phone and told her how awful I felt. I was weak, dizzy, pale, and as close to incoherent as I'd ever been. I was so out of sorts I was convinced I would jump out of my skin at the very moment this doctor implied all I needed was a firm grip on reality.

"Do you have enough support?" she asked. "Yep," I replied. I told her my mom lives right around the corner, my sister just a few miles away. I told her friends were delivering meals and my husband was coming home from work whenever I called for him. Help was just a phone call away, and I had plenty of it. What I didn't have was medical guidance about how my body was tolerating chemotherapy. That's why I needed her.

I hung up the phone that day having accomplished nothing. And I woke up the next morning barely able to walk. I crawled into my kitchen, grabbed a banana, sprawled out on the floor, inhaled some nutrition, and called my mom. I told her I needed to have my blood examined.

My mom transported me to my oncology clinic -- we had a genetic counseling appointment there anyway so it was convenient timing -- and before long, I was hand-delivered a mask and was swiftly escorted to my very own hospital room where I stayed for five days.

The day I was admitted to the hospital, my white blood counts were 700. My body was not tolerating chemotherapy. And I'll never know why my oncologist didn't know this, didn't call me in for an evaluation when so many signs were presenting themselves, didn't offer me more than her steadfast declaration that "chemo is tough stuff."

Yes, chemo is tough. And there are all sorts of expected side effects of the dreaded treatment that patients must endure. But there are many effects patients should not have to suck up, effects that warrant immediate medical attention and can be alleviated with the right intervention.

It took days of antibiotic treatment and a blood transfusion for my body to recover from its chemotherapy attack. I often wonder what would have happened had I toughed it out at home. I suspect the outcome could have been tragic.

If I ever have the occasion to preach about the dangers of chemotherapy, which is what I am doing here, I offer a firm warning about how difficult the treatments can be, how anyone with any string of worrisome side effects should seek medical help immediately, how any oncologist who doesn't respond to an outright cry for help should be fired.

I learned many lessons from my chemo crusade. I learned how to better help myself, and I learned to report right to the emergency room the second time my blood counts plummeted. I learned to demand the care I deserve, and I found an oncologist who is a warm and caring partner in my pursuit of health. And I learned that chemo is tougher than I ever imagined, too tough for some -- like me -- to go it alone.

Breast cancer is widespread -- so widespread that most of us have direct personal contact with someone living with this disease. Information about breast cancer is also widespread -- so widespread that it's easy to get lost in the maze of details that define this illness that two million women in the United States are living with at this very moment. Breast cancer has its own set of definitions and facts and statistics -- and myths too. And here are seven myths that are not worth spreading.

Most lumps in the breast are cancer.
Actually, most lumps in the breast are not cancer. But every lump should still be examined and diagnosed.

Breast cancer does not occur in young women.
While most breast cancer cases occur in women over the age of 50, breast cancer can and does occur in women of all ages. I was diagnosed at age 34.

Women with large breasts have a greater risk of breast cancer.
Size does not affect risk. But it can be more difficult to examine large breasts and therefore detect a suspicious lump due to a larger amount of tissue.

A woman has little or no risk of breast cancer if she has has no family history of the disease.
Most women with breast cancer -- about 75 percent -- have no family history of breast cancer. Simply being female puts all women at risk. I have no family history of breast cancer -- but I still was diagnosed with this disease and have been treating it for almost two years.

If mammography shows nothing to worry about, then there is nothing to worry about.
Mammography can miss 10 to 15 percent of all breast cancers. So any suspicious mass should be investigated with further tests -- such as ultrasound and MRI. When my lump was examined during a mammogram, my doctor was not worried. But an ultrasound that followed revealed a solid mass -- and this was something to worry about. A biopsy came next. And then came my breast cancer diagnosis.

Once a woman is treated for breast cancer, she should avoid becoming pregnant.
Many breast cancer survivors go on to have successful pregnancies and healthy children. Women should consult their doctors, however, about current and previous treatments and should discuss any possible concerns about pregnancy after breast cancer.

Removal of the entire breast is safer than segmental mastectomy.
Survival is similar for women who have breast-conserving surgery -- like a lumpectomy -- and for those who have either a total or modified mastectomy.

It's not surprising that inaccurate information is floating around about breast cancer -- because there is so much information on the topic and much of it is not completely understood by those who study the disease every day. But we all can take an active part in our own education by researching each tidbit of news that comes our way. We can confirm it, deny it, and understand it better if we take matters into our own hands. And if we don't spread anything we just are not sure about. We owe it to ourselves -- and women everywhere -- to spread only the most accurate information about this disease we all need to better comprehend.

On August 9, Patty was diagnosed with breast cancer. She is 36 years old, a wife, a mother of four children -- and already a fighter in her battle that has just begun. So far, she has endured surgery, and she will soon proceed through months of intensive chemotherapy, one year of Herceptin treatment, and weeks and weeks of radiation. It's a familiar path for so many women -- a path marked by devastation, fear, worry, and panic. Yet if there is a gift that flows from cancer, it must be the support and concern and love that can cushion the blow delivered by this disease.

Patty has an abundance of support -- and it all starts with her husband, ironically an administrator of two cancer centers, who is blogging her journey with great strength and an overwhelming love for his wife whose own mother died of breast cancer in 1992 at the age of 46. Patty and her husband have been vigilant about monitoring her health over the years -- in light of her family history -- and Patty had been tested, screened, biopsied, and examined many times before her diagnosis. When her recent tests and biopsies revealed breast cancer, it was both shocking and expected.

Now Patty and her husband -- who authors the blog Patty's Journey -- are expecting the best of outcomes on this journey of a lifetime.

I was examined yesterday by my radiation oncologist and two medical students during a six-month follow-up appointment. And any apprehension I had prior to the visit -- about a recurrence of breast cancer or the detection of cancer somewhere else in my body -- is gone. Because I walked away with the news that I am doing just fine. No lumps or bumps or suspicious masses were found. No enlarged lymph nodes were detected. And since I did not report any pain or tenderness or sensitivity or other trouble, I was sent on my way with nothing more than a notice for a return appointment in another six months. I have other appointments hanging in the balance -- one with my medical oncologist in August and a mammogram in November -- and I am sure hesitation and worry will again sneak into my head. But for now, I can only feel the true exhilaration that comes from truly good news. Like the exhilaration that comes from a breathtaking moment at the ocean -- where the power and beauty of the sea and the sky and the sand is all it takes for one five-year-old boy to feel amazingly free.