Well my friends this is it, my last blog post on Kicking Cancer. I've decided this is my final one because I've done it – kicked cancer in the butt (and, for that matter,  stomped on it too!!).  

I have ditched the wig as of today; it is the last hurdle, the last fear to overcome. To be honest, I feel quite naked without it. It has been my safety blanket for the past year, hiding the ravages of cancer treatment. It is time though as my two beautiful girls have asked me to stop wearing it -- they associate the wig with cancer and they want their mommy back.  We are going to donate it to a woman who has just been diagnosed, someone who is just starting her battle.

Now it's time for me to close the door and put this past year firmly behind me. Now it is time for me to focus on living. 

When I was first diagnosed and decided to go public, I promised myself I would be open and honest about what the experience was like -- but after my final treatment, just three days before Christmas, I had to take a break. I couldn't be open and I couldn't be honest about what I was feeling. I was too vulnerable, too wounded to put my pain into words. I was so defiant when I was diagnosed, I called breast cancer my "six month inconvenience." It was the only way I knew how to cope at that time and it worked. It got me through the treatments, the chemo, the surgery and the radiation.

But when everything was finished in December I felt shattered.  A terrible sadness started creeping into my life -- even the day after I left the hospital.  Suddenly all of the emotions I had been suppressing to get through the treatments were hitting me all at once. I wasn't expecting that. No one warned me that this is quite common. I was drowning in darkness and for a few months I couldn't see the light anymore. That scared me, really scared me, as I've never lost hope before. Very few people knew that I was struggling -- only my family and closest friends. I talked; they listened. Thank god for their support.

But don't you dare feel sorry for me; and don't think for a second that I've lost my spunk. Slowly, very slowly, I have been picking up all the broken pieces of my life and putting them back together. Sadness still comes to visit me but I am learning to cope with it, accept it and beat it back.

Yes, there are still many conflicting emotions -- victory tinged with pain, despair trumped by elation -- but the positive emotions are now winning.

I have a bounce in my step again and I’m getting my strength back. I’m starting to feel like myself again – only better, wiser, stronger and at peace. I feel joy when I look at my two beautiful girls.  

Throughout my career, I have interviewed many cancer survivors. They have all told me cancer is a gift: a great learning experience. All this year, I have wondered what I would learn and can sum it up in two key lessons:

First, I'm not afraid of dying, but I am afraid of not living well.

Second, I want to have less and live more. So, I have just sold my house and I'm downsizing. It is the perfect time to start my second chance at life with a clean slate. It is my rebirth.   

I had always hoped that by going public about my diagnosis it would help raise awareness. Cancer can't be beaten if it is kept in the dark. It has to be exposed to the light; we have to talk about it. It is not a death sentence. Doctors and researchers are making great strides in treatment -- but the faster you catch it the better your chance of beating it. One in nine women in Canada will get breast cancer in their lifetime.  Only 20 per cent will have had a family history. It could happen to you, your mother, your sister, your friend. I would go through this a million more times if it meant my two girls would never have to.  

I know I’m lucky. I know it can come back – but I refuse to think about that possibility. Why go through hell if I’m going to live in fear?

I can't write this final blog without mentioning my dear friend and colleague Mark Dailey. Mark was passionate about raising awareness about prostate cancer.  He wanted to make a difference and he did.  He was my role model, he showed such grace and courage. We all miss him deeply here at Citytv.  

Ok, one last thought: Live. Enjoy every beautiful, painful moment of this exquisite existence we call life.

"It takes chaos to give birth to a rising star." -- Nietzsche (I love that quote)

Cynthia