I never thought I would shave my head, but I did. I decided I would be the one to do it, and I felt very in control at that moment. I felt strong, and I was much more comfortable without hair than I thought I'd be. But at the time I was convinced it would be a distraction to the audience, so I wore a wig on the air.
From 7 a.m. until 9 a.m., my hair and makeup team put "Humpty Dumpty" back together again. From 7 until 9, I got to look like me. It was what I felt was best for me to get through this. I can't emphasize enough that cancer isn't one size fits all.
For some reason, I decided to go to the Middle East with the first lady, Laura. Bush. She had invited me. I asked my doctors and they said, "Well, it's a bit ambitious. People don't normally travel to Abu Dhabi and Saudi Arabia in the middle of chemotherapy." And I was kind of looking at them like, "Yeah, and ...?"
It was easier getting permission from the doctors than it was getting permission from my mom to go on the trip. But she understood the importance of it to me. I had to take the entire week off following the trip. … I couldn't get out of bed. I was spent.
I couldn't imagine going through this journey without my "GMA" family and my ABC News family. And from the moment I let people know about my diagnosis, support started pouring in, most of it from people who knew firsthand what I was going through.
The homemade items, the prayer shawls, and the number of people in the audience who say, "I prayed for you," … I've lost count.
On the last day of chemo, I shed tears of joy. Because of the chemo, my body just wasn't mine anymore. I was hurting so much. So it's kind of nice not to have any thought of that.
"It's our tradition whenever you finish chemotherapy, you get bubbles," the nurse said.
So she blew bubbles, and everybody cheered, but it wasn't over. The next step: 6½ of radiation every day.
"When they take out the tumor sometimes there are cells left over at the edges of the scar," the nurse explained.
Radiation was very hard on me, fatigue-wise, but after seven months, my treatment was finally over.
There was one more thing on my mind. The day came when I realized that I was in essence hiding behind my wig on the air.
I'd been telling myself that the audience couldn't handle seeing me bald, but you know what? Maybe it was me who was having a problem showing them what I really looked like. I was just holding on to the way I looked prior to cancer.
Now I realize this is me. I look in the mirror. You have cancer. You have cancer. Look at you. You're here. You're living and working with cancer.
I flipped my wig and I shook it off. I am not my hair; I am the soul that lies within.
Now I've walked this path, and I have some insight. I don't think about it when I wake up -- it's not the first thing I think about.
I've also got a lot of pink in my office these days. I never was much for pink before all this, but it's my favorite color now.
This is a chapter in my life, that's it. It is not my life story, and it will not be the last chapter in my life story.
ABC News producers Roxanna Sherwood and Eric Johnson contributed to this report.