I'm still synthesizing all of the information I gathered at Canyon Ranch in Tucson, Arizona. I've been home from this health and healing institute for three months now. Still, I'm discovering new and exciting ways to put into action the tools I brought home.

One task I've mostly mastered is trimming the excess fat out of my diet. I never realized how much fat I was eating before I closely examined my habits. A half order of cheese fries with ranch dressing during an occasional trip to the Outback was costing me 91 grams of fat -- not to mention 1,450 calories and 120 grams of carbohydrates. Now I steer clear of fatty foods and pay close attention to what I ingest. In case you want to jump on board, here are a few tips: Use skim or soy milk, pick low-fat cheeses, pick up some ground turkey instead of beef, and snack on fresh fruit instead of chips, dips, cookies, and cakes.

This is just a start. But a difference it will truly make.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it, says conventional wisdom. But if it is broken, then by all means -- fix it.

Many of us have broken pantries. Pantries full of chips, cookies, candies, oils, sugars, and well, let's just name it: junk. Our pantries are broken because they don't work in a world where health and wellness and prevention should be on everyone's menu. They are ineffective, insufficient, and downright bad for us.

My pantry has been in disrepair for a long time. Now, however, thanks to a build-your-pantry cheat sheet I brought home from Canyon Ranch, it's on the mend. Yours can be too. Just borrow from this abbreviated list next time you're in the grocery store and in no time, your pantry will be lookin' good. So will you.

Survivorship is the new cancer buzz word -- and what an important word it is. Once left to each individual to define, manage, and transcend, survivorship is now recognized as a distinct phase of cancer recovery -- just as important, and maybe even more so, than diagnosis and treatment.

Linda Griggs, a 13-year breast cancer survivor, clearly remembers the day her chemotherapy ended. With her therapy complete, her hair growing back, and her medical team sending her off to have a nice life, she thought she'd be fine. But she wasn't.

Three months after her last dose of chemotherapy, Griggs was depressed, consumed with worry about how her cancer might come back. And she realized that the end of treatment is not really the end. It's just the beginning.

Griggs told her doctor about her anxiety, about how she was just trying to make it to her next three-month-check up. When her doctor told her, "that's not living," something clicked for Griggs who instantly decided to start living -- really living.

Surviving is about self-nurturing, says Griggs, who has created a kit to help others survive cancer. On her website, she writes that there are a couple of other breast cancer survivor kits out there -- containing tissues, herbal teas, meditation tapes, medical appointment books, and breast cancer resource materials.

"This is not that," she says of her kit that focuses on the emotional upheaval cancer creates.

Griggs' kit is full of hands-on creative materials -- like an inner child notebook, complete with magic markers for journaling and expressing emotions. If you're angry, you can write down angry thoughts. If you're sad, write what makes you sad. Save the pages, tear them up, burn them, do what you wish -- but allow your emotions to flow, Griggs says.

The kit also includes a wooden box with instructions on how to create a healing shrine, a copy of Griggs' non-fiction account of the first five years of her cancer journey, and so much more.

Griggs, who also teaches healing workshops, guides others to understand cancer as a hero's quest. She says when something happens to us -- death, divorce, disease -- we are receiving a call to adventure. All bet's are off. We must start fresh, gather our spirit guides, collect ourselves, dive into the underworld, overcome, and then emerge full of wisdom of growth.

Griggs has emerged -- full of her own wisdom and growth. She is a hero -- on a quest to help others survive a disease that threw her way off track for way too long.