In 2006, 174,470 people will be diagnosed with lung cancer in the United States. About 92,700 men and 81,770 women will develop the disease -- the leading cause of cancer death among both men and women.

An estimated 162,460 men and women will die of lung cancer this year, accounting for 28 percent of all cancer deaths and taking more lives than colon, breast, and prostate cancers combined. While most people diagnosed with lung cancer will die within the first two years of diagnosis -- this has not changed in 10 years -- some people are cured. There are currently about 333,000 long-term survivors.

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.

There is no major test or screening tool or exam that reveals the definite presence of cancer in the body. There are mammograms that can detect suspicious masses in the breast and there is a blood test that might raise concerns about the health of ovaries and there are various x-rays and scans that allow doctors to peek into the intricacies of the human body -- and some tests, like the mammogram clearly do save lives -- but some tests that seem harmless can damage the psyche while accomplishing little else.

I asked my oncologist how he would know if my breast cancer returns. He said I will receive regular mammograms and ultrasounds of my breasts. And he will perform in-office exams every few months. He will complete a breast exam and will feel my neck for enlarged lymph nodes. He will listen to my lungs and feel my stomach. But largely, he will rely on me to report symptoms and signs and complaints -- because these are the true indicators that something is amiss.

I imagined myself getting a whole host of tests on my whole body to rule out that cancer is invading every part of me. But this won't happen without reason -- because some tools, like imaging tests, may detect noncancerous abnormalities and false positives that lead to unnecessary psychological stress and tests -- and sometimes even surgery. So if I develop a persistent cough that can't be controlled, perhaps my oncologist will order a chest x-ray. If headaches begin to plague me and relief is not in sight, then perhaps a scan of my head will be in order. But as long as I feel well, the assumption is that I am well. It's better for my soul this way -- to live life without the constant worry that cancer will return. And it's a whole lot more cost effective too.