On the 30th day of the 12th month, I go home.

On the 30th day of the 12th month of each year, I go back to the cancer clinic that saved my life. The day has no significance for me really. Its just another day.

The choice of gear for my 'day' is a pair of camo pants that I have worn to every one of my chemo and radiation treatments in my own personal dance with cancer. Call it my kevlar.

I will get in my car and i'll do the drive-thru of Tim Hortons and i'll order 24 doughnuts (no cake ones please) and I'll secure them in the passenger seat till I get to the parking lot of the clinic.

I'll then tenderly support them till I get in the building and then I'll firstly, head to the chemo wing.

I'll check in the with reception but they are expecting me as they've done so for the last 3 years.

The receptionist with smile at me and take one pack of doughnuts and hide them under her desk like a prize cause she knows how many smiles hide in that plain brown cardboard box.

I walk right into the '411 mess hall' of people doing chemo. People like you and I.

I sit with them offering my fare and I try and show them that yup, you'll get through it. I did. I give them a doughnut full of chocolate and hope that they too can have a future.

I then head to to the radiation wing with the second box of comfort and I realize that I get so much out of putting 8 bucks in.

Sometimes its just as simple as a donut and a smile and good dose on 'been there, done that."

We all walk alone with cancer. We are all on a personal journey with learning abour our disease and how we choose to see and deal with it.

We all take our own path and I've decided that mine will be one full of warmth and puppy dog kisses and camo pants and doughnuts and smiles.

On the 30th, I go home and its going to feel so good to know that it was never really bad in the first place. I just thought it was.