BOSTON -- I've been thinking a lot about how you're "supposed" to act when you've been given a difficult diagnosis. In the past two months I've heard everything from " It's great you're so positive" to " You have to make sure you allow yourself to be sad."

An interview with Former Massachusetts First Lady Ann Romney on ABC News caught my eye. She was talking about her diagnosis with multiple sclerosis years ago.

"It was tough, and I have to say, I was not an example of strength and courage when I was going through it. I was pretty frightened. And when you really get down, I felt like I was completely crushed. Crushed, and it was, it was a scary thing, because I, in so many ways, it changed me. I felt so, before I had the disease, just on top of things and energetic, and I could handle everything, and I did. I managed so much of our life, and all of the things that go on, as a mother, and all those things that you do, and I thought I was doing it just, very, sort of, in a strange kind of way, a kind of pride in everything that I did so well, and then all of a sudden, it was all taken away, and I could do nothing. And then you're left, 'with who am I?' And why did I have to, why is the rest of my life going to be so miserable, and why, you know, feeling pretty sorry for myself."

I find her candor so refreshing. I had only seen the brave side of her fight. I remember seeing her riding horses and talking about how much that helped her with the symptoms. I also saw her at an MS dinner and thought she was very strong. Obviously, it can take a while to get there and many of us experience a lot of private pain and anguish first.

I think it was a social worker at Dana Farber who pointed out I may experience a period of mourning for the loss of my good health. I think that’s exactly what happened to me last weekend.

I had the first chemo treatment Monday and suffered through a few difficult days of feeling nausea and fatigue. By Saturday, I was emotionally wiped. I had a mini breakdown. I found myself driving around Boston and just crying in the car. I was angry and sad. After I finished crying, I actually felt much better. I just needed to get it out. Then I went back home where I rejoined my life "already in progress." The kids needed lunch and we had things to do, places to be.

Fortunately, I’m usually too busy to spend too much time wallowing. Having two small children has made some parts of coping with cancer more difficult, but it also provides a wonderful distraction from the sadness. That said, I know many people fighting cancer find antidepressants necessary during the long haul of treatment. For now, I'm going to try a few so-called complementary therapies to help keep my spirits and energy up. I'm interested in acupuncture, yoga, reiki and meditation.

Life does go on. In fact, I had an amazing time Saturday at my daughter’s third birthday party. It was great to look around the chaotic room and see all these children with their faces smeared with cake. Life is wonderful, and cancer doesn't change that. This weekend I also stood in a church and watched as my goddaughter was christened. These are life-affirming events that I cherish. These are the moments I want to remember about 2007, not just the cancer.

I did go back to work last Monday. It's been four weeks since my surgery, and my doctor cleared me for light duty. I'm so happy to see my co-workers again. They have all been so incredibly supportive. I'm also eager to get back out covering stories. Work provides an excellent distraction from my illness.

I’m keeping a constant watch on my hair. The buildup is getting annoying. I have the special drain in the tub and a towel on my pillow. They say your head can hurt or feel strange before the hair goes. I’m hyper-aware of every sensation. I did want my hair to stay put through this weekend for the birthday party and the christening. I’m grateful for small victories!

Hair today ... gone tomorrow?