Mother brought me roses the other day. And so my six-month bout with breast cancer ends as it began, with pink roses from my mother. The color is her favorite.

I used to love the color pink. It reminded me of satin ballet slippers, a baby’s cheeks, plum blossoms in springtime. And, of course, Mom.

Last October, “Breast Cancer Awareness Month,” the color was everywhere--from supermarket displays to T-shirts on marchers in San Francisco. Professional football players wore pink ribbons on their helmets. Their gloves were pink. So were their shoes. I liked it for a while, even after my diagnosis. Then, I couldn’t see pink ribbons without bursting into tears.

Well, there are no tears this Good Friday. Break out the bubbly. It’s my last day of radiation and then I am sprung. There is one more serious decision to be made--whether or not to take an estrogen-suppressing drug for five years. I don’t want to think about that today. I will think about it tomorrow.

Those who know me have wondered aloud how such a private person could put something so personal as her battle with breast cancer on the Internet. The first day, I published a blog to let my far-flung circle of friends know what was happening. And I needed the moral support. The second day, I wanted to thank everyone who had so warmly come to my side. I was going to stop there when my surgeon said, “I think you could be helping a lot of people.” So I persevered, not only with the blog but in my not-so-private war against cancer.

There is much more to be said, of course. I’ve learned about ways to navigate through surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, which I will share. There is much to be said about thwarting cancer to begin with and preventing its recurrence. There’s more to be written about the emotional side of the disease, the friendships that have deepened, life after cancer, and regaining one’s health and equilibrium.

I do believe anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer, gone through its surgeries and treatments, has seen the bowels of hell. I will not be looking for that yellow bus. Nothing can scare me now.*

*This blog will soon be transformed into a manuscript titled Nothing Can Scare Me Now: A Survivor’s Unvarnished Look at the Emotional Side of Breast Cancer. With hard work and good health, it should be finished this summer. Wish me luck.