Just like in golf, a high score with the Oncotype DX test is undesirable. It turned out that, due to a measurement of 21 different genes in my tumor, I had an "intermediate" risk of distant recurrence (metastasized) cancer within 10 years. So all the radiation talk went out the window and chemo was on the agenda.

I remember the day well, because I was so devastated, I took the rest of the day off to try to deal with the blow and process it all. Remember, I had also learned the day before that I needed a second breast surgery as well (also not on the agenda). You could say I was reeling a bit.

With chemo behind me, I was anxious to meet Dr. K. today and get on with the next stage of my treatment. However, I began feeling depressed last night. I figured out that it was probably because I've had nearly a month of normalcy and the thought of more cancer treatment brought me back to reality. I just want to get on with life again! However, I know that "getting on with life" is not going to be the same as it was BCD (before cancer diagnosis).

For one, I will be taking Tamoxifen to suppress my estrogen for at least two years. After that, I will be switched to another medication for post-menopausal women and take it for about three years. Also, I will be going for mammograms and follow-up appointments every six months.

There are times I wish for the days of blissful ignorance--when I can stop being preoccupied with my breast tissue and every ache that pops up doesn't make me wonder if I should cancel my magazine subscriptions. Alas, those days are gone!

So back to my appointment with Dr. K: my husband met me at the cancer care center and I went through the requisite weigh-in, blood pressure check, and chit-chat about what medications I'm taking. Hubby made the nurse laugh, which is why he's so good to bring along.

Then Dr. K. entered the room and said that he'd reviewed my records from Swedish Hospital, but that he didn't see anything about how well I had tolerated the chemo. He asked me if I had an easy time or a hard time. I told him that I thought it would qualify as "easy," since I'd expected chemo to be so much worse.

I detailed some of my side effects while he jotted notes. My husband interjected a few things that I had forgotten (including my "psychotic nightmares"). Then Dr. K. asked if he could examine me and left the room so I could change into a gown.

After my exam, I told Dr. K. that I thought I needed another mammogram, as it had already been six months since the last one (the one that started this whole fiasco).

He told me that he would refer me for one, but that in all the 21 years he's been practicing, he's never seen a woman develop new lumps while undergoing chemo. I figured as much, but it was reassuring to hear that. Kind of like having a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card in your pocket for a few months. I'm scheduled for my mammogram next week. I sure hope it will be routine like so many I've had before. I'd like to replace the memory of that last one with something better.

After my exam, I told Dr. K. that I had some questions. He said I could get dressed and he would be back so we could talk. I ran through my list of questions and here's the first one I had: what is my prognosis? No one has really given me that information.

Dr. K. stated that he thought I had a low risk of recurrence, and that this should be a one-time event in my life (I needed to hear that from a doctor!).

"What about the higher Oncotype test score?" I asked. According to the information I'd been given, I had an 18% risk of distant recurrence and by having chemo, it would be lowered to 12%.

Dr. K. said that the study was based on women who were given drugs that were not as good as the drugs we have today. He said that he would put my risk of distant recurrence at closer to 9%.

Now, if you've never been diagnosed with cancer, all those numbers may sound insignificant. Hearing Dr. K. say "9%" made me want to get up and dance a jig!

I realize that no doctor can predict the future, but I really needed to hear those reassuring words from Dr. K.--someone who sees a lot of cancer patients. Before the Oncotype test, I felt reasonably optimistic. After the Onctotype test, I felt like someone had let the air out of my balloon. I take that back . . . I felt like the schoolyard bully had TAKEN my balloon, POPPED it, STOMPED on it, and PUNCHED me in the stomach! Today, I got a new balloon. :~)

Dr. K. also mentioned the numerous recent studies that show how much exercise can reduce the risk of cancer recurrence. I already knew this, which is why I purchased a treadmill a few months ago. I've never been much into exercise, but if ever I had motivation to do it, it's now.

I asked Dr. K. if I could meet with a nutritionist and he set that up for me as well. I have a consultation with one tomorrow after work.

One of the things I like about Dr. K. is that he is empathetic and LISTENS. He also takes the time to answer my questions with as much information as possible. He talks about studies that have been done and even got up during our first visit to copy a study for me so that I could take it home and read it. He doesn't talk down to me; rather, he treats me as if I have the intelligence to acquire the same information that he has.

After our appointment ended, Dr. K. sent in an assistant who took me to an area where the simulation is done. My husband was sent to the waiting area to read his book while I changed into my gown again and went through a catscan and received my tattoos (three tiny dots--one on each side, plus one in the middle of my chest). Check out the photos on the Mayo Clinic website to see what the simulation entails.

The tattoos will help the radiation people place me in the same position for each visit. I'm told that the radiation itself only takes a couple of minutes. The rest of the time is waiting your turn and getting into the exact position.

When I first learned about radiation, of course, I was freaked out. I still am. But when I learned that it lowers the risk of a local recurrence (cancer returning in the same area) by 40%, I resigned myself to it.

The risks associated with radiation are real, but FAR LESS than the risk of getting the cancer back without it. I've also known a lot of women who had radiation years ago and are still alive and well. And radiation treatment has improved vastly since the old days.

The radiation beams are tailored to conform to the shape of the tumor cavity and angled to shoot across the breast so that very little of the beam even comes in contact with other tissue, which is reassuring.

I don't know how I will react when I have to do the actual treatment, but I will cross that bridge when I come to it. When I think of being given the opportunity to beat cancer and hang around to see and know my grandchildren, it's worth it to me. Once again, I am reminded to be thankful to live in a day and age when treatment is even offered for such a disease.

I have so much more I'd love to share, but I'll save it for another time. Thank you, everyone, for your continued prayers and encouragement, as they are still needed. :~)