When I describe the cancerous lump I found in my breast almost three Novembers ago, I explain that it felt like a hard, frozen green pea. The port used for chemotherapy infusions and sewn under the skin near my collarbone? It looked like a bottle cap popping up for all to see. My kids called it a stone. I had to numb my skin prior to treatments -- the needle inserted into the center of the port was just too big and painful. I slathered on my numbing lotion prior to each dose of drugs. Imagine the size of a quarter. I used twice this much. I was wimpy.

There's something about visual descriptions that help us remember some of the more important things in life. Here's a good one:

According to Jeffrey Dover, MD and associate clinical professor of dermatology at Yale School of Medicine, we must not skimp when we apply sunscreen. How do we know if we are cutting ourselves short? We should be using a shot-glass full of sun protection to cover our bodies. Anything less is not enough.

I will visit my oncologist on Monday for my every-three-month check-up. It's the recurring appointment that will appear on my calendar until I hit the five-year-survival milestone. I am three years away.

It's the appointment that consumes at least half of my day due to endless waiting -- waiting for a parking spot, waiting in the lobby, waiting in the exam room, waiting to pay. It's the appointment that officially begins with the drawing of my blood for lab work, continues with a check of my vitals, proceeds with a history review and physical exam with a medical student. It's the appointment that brings me face to face with the man who prescribed my treatment, the man who offers me strategies for living beyond treatment, the man who helps keep me alive. My oncologist.

And so I am preparing for this visit in the same exact way as I always do. I set aside a large chunk of time for this time-consuming extravaganza. I think a lot about the lab work and wonder if something suspicious will surface. I think a lot about the physical exam and wonder if an enlarged lymph node or mass in my breast will be discovered. And I think a lot about what I want to ask -- because this is my only very own allotted time for unraveling the mysteries of cancer with the man who knows the topic like no one else I know.

On Monday, I will ask a few questions. I will ask about tumor markers, about why I am not tested for these indicators of tumor growth, a standard option for my co-writer and co-cancer survivor Kristina Collins. I will ask about Zoloft, about how long I should continue taking this anti-depressant and how to best wean myself from this drug when the time comes. I will ask about the flu shot, about whether or not I can get one during this same appointment.

And that's all. For now. Until three more months pass and my calendar tells me it's time to return for this recurring appointment that takes me closer to the five-year mark.

Stopped by Darren Clarke's blog today and read that he has donated the $1,840 dollar prize from his Shot of the Month award to cancer charity and will begin an online auction for the trophy that he received with it to raise additional money for cancer charity.

Clarke posted, "It really is a worthwhile cause and a superb trophy so here is a chance for a generous benefactor to help us fight this terrible disease by winning our auction."

Clarke's wife, Heather, has been battling breast cancer that has spread to her bones and liver. They have two sons, and while Clarke is a competitive athlete, his first priorities and heart are with his wife, as she struggles with ongoing cancer treatments.

When Tiger Woods was worried during his late father's struggle with prostate cancer, Clarke was one of the people Woods spent time with, as both understood how the other felt.

If you are interested in bidding on the trophy, Clarke said he will be posting information about it shortly.

08.13.2006 UPDATE: Darren Clarke has lost wife after long struggle with breast cancer.

7.21.2006 UPDATE: Darren Clarke: golf loses pro golfer due to cancer struggle.