People have different opinions on cancer anniversaries: some were traumatized by their diagnosis and would rather forget the whole business; others celebrate theirs like birthdays. And every shade in between, I’m sure.
I lean more towards the celebration end of the spectrum. Last year I put together a post on Shakespere’s St. Crispian’s day speech. I’ll be damned if I’m scared of something that’s already happened, or let cancer scare me more than it already has. Much better in my mind to celebrate every day that I’m still alive. And two years progression-free has some minor medical significance: I’ve unquestionably out-lived the typical prognosis for high-grade gliomas. Not that I had a GBM tumor, but I could have had one, and we didn’t know that until ten days after my initial diagnosis. So, at this point we can conclude that whatever I had, it’s behaving like a typical Grade II glioma. Which is good news. And as I mentioned before, every day that I survive without recurrence makes my odds a little better.
By coincidence, my yearly anniversary also corresponds to WashU’s yearly “Relay for Life” fund-raiser. Nearby is a picture of Jing and myself at this year’s relay. Thanks to everyone who contributed on my behalf; we personally raised ~$350, and the Relay altogether raised ~$150,000. Now, the skeptic in me says that’s only a very small NIH grant, but there are dozens of Relay fund-raisers in the St. Louis area alone, and one never knows where the next big idea will come from. Resistance and solidarity are priceless regardless of the money involved.
So, today I turn two years old. Unlike my first two-year birthday, I’m old enough to enjoy this one properly. Yesterday, I took my lab out for lunch, which was a lot of fun… there’s nothing better than working with people you like and admire. We don’t have anything planned at home tonight; anyone who has a busy house knows how there are head winds that prevent proper mirth during the week. Or during the weekend for that matter. That’s neither here nor there; I made it another year, and you can’t ask for more than that.