UW Results

As always, we have to confirm with UCLA, but the preliminary findings of my MRI is stable. The FLAIR signal in the tumor cavity is slightly increased. However there is no enhancement, and no new nodular area. There's a venus abnormality that they've been watching, but I'm not too concerned about it.

All-in-all a great scan. I had been terrified, even convinced that there would be a new lesion, since I've been eating horribly, including a 20 lb weight gain - pure sugar. I've always equated excess calories as food for the tumor so the fact that there isn't obvious tumor growth is a freaking miracle. Apparently diet isn't the end-all-be-all of cancer growth. (I'm sure it matters, but who knows how much, and for which cancers, and which people?)

I'm obviously relieved, and can now focus on treating myself well because I want to. I can exercise, and eat right, because it's fun, not because I'm scared and feel responsible. I had been punishing myself, even daring the cancer to come back and prove me right. I know that sounds disgusting, and selfish. I felt that when I get good results, when I succeed, I still watch my friends get sicker. So if I have a good scan, I lose. And if I have a bad scan, I lose. I lose either way. I feel guilty being "heathy", even though cancer has taken so much from me. From us. 

It's really hard to be fearless in this situation, and very hard to not get stuck. It's time for me to stop punishing myself for success, for my good fortune and hard work. I don't know how to manifest that, to forgive myself for being alive, for being able to mow the lawn just now. That guilt has no place, I realize it, but it's there nonetheless. 

On Wednesday, through the help of a girlfriend, I was able to take my nephew KC to We Day (http://www.weday.com) where I watched thousands of seventh grade world changers. The kids are fearless, they're kind, they're big thinkers and problem solvers. I'm going to try to harness their spirit and attitude to get outside of myself. When I get in a rut, when I feel paralyzed, I need to remind myself to find inspiration. It always helps. For being an extrovert, I can certainly disappear from friends, from family, I can get scared, and filled with denial and avoidance, and that's fine from time to time, but if we don't look out, and see what's around us, who needs help, how you can have a positive impact on those around you, then what's the point. 

I'm just really relieved about this first set of results, and grateful that I didn't shoot myself in the foot with diet and lifestyle choices. One of the saddest things that we can do in life is give up, or take our health for granted. I'm embarrassed to say that I feel like I kind of had. But not any longer. There's probably a fine line  between giving up and enjoying yourself, and one of these days I'm sure I'll figure it out.

Seizure Help

Hey Friends,

Here's the deal, I talk to a lot of brain tumor patients, and caregivers, about seizures. And although none are the same, there are often similarities, and definitely tricks. Even though each person's situation is unique, there is almost always overlap. Last night I received an email from a caregiver about his wife's seizures - a GBM patient. She switched from Keppra to valproic acid and vipmat several months ago, and had been fine, then twice in the past week she has had seizures. Each time she is forced back into the hospital is a major setback. She loses more weight (her weight is hovering in the 70's ), and becomes weaker. In corresponding, I asked him if I could bring it up for discussion on the blog, hoping that people could share their successes and failures to help troubleshoot. 

I feel bad because I've talked to so many of you about these issues, the side effects, the trial and error of seizure drugs, the specific triggers, but I can't remember everything that you all have said. Would you be so kind to share, even anonymously? I know it would be a huge help.

I remember when a caregiver told me that he gets his wife's blood levels checked regularly to make sure that her seizure meds are at the correct levels, not too high nor too low. When I heard that I was floored. I had no idea that your blood levels could be checked, or that every body metabolizes drugs differently. That it doesn't have to be trial and error, and it doesn't have to be a shot in the dark. The more we talk the more we know what to ask for, and how to help ourselves.

So if you could please share and answer as many of these questions, or whatever you're comfortable with, both he and I would be incredibly grateful (and please, elaborate, or share what you have found helpful if it hasn't been included on his list below):

My questions are this, if you don't mind:

1. Do you get major seizures or minor ones?
2. Do you go to the hospital after each one?
3. What meds are you on? I see that you wrote about keppra and I think you got yourself off that but I'm not sure what you're on. Do you mind telling me?
4. How do you think it works for you?

Here were my answers:

1. I have had a few grand mals, but now have simple partial seizures since I've been able to control them. I take lorazepam when I don't get enough sleep, I'm careful to keep my blood sugar stable, I drink a lot of water, I limit emotional and physical stress, I don't over do stimulation (sunglasses, overheating, loud noises). Every person's seizure triggers are unique. 

2. I no longer go to the hospital for seizures. I stopped because it seemed like no point, they just monitor me and pump me full of more drugs.

3. I've tried three different kinds and none stopped the seizures. I can't even remember which ones other than Keppra. So now I just take a lorazepam when I feel an aura coming on. 

4. I've been able to manage my seizures quite well. For example, I just had to do a minor surgery in my mouth which causes seizures, it's the epinephrine in the numbing shots which has been well documented in causing seizures in epileptics and I am no exception, so I took 2 mg of alozepram which is heavy duty Xanax and had no problems. Although I did sleep 10 hours afterward. 

Four Days of Freedom

The MRI is on Saturday, and with it comes phantom headaches, throbbing in the tumor cavity, dizziness, ravenous cravings, nausea, sweaty nights jumping up from bed. The usual paranoia.

I've been hiding for months, pretending I never got diagnosed. Pretending I could do whatever I wanted, eat whatever I wanted, drink whatever I wanted, live the way I wanted. And now I have to face the reality of whatever is going on in my brain. 

Which is nothing. 

(Right?)

MRI is scheduled for this Saturday. Guess we'll find out about deez noodles.

A video posted by Jessica Oldwyn (@happy_coconuts) on Apr 11, 2016 at 4:18pm PDT

.........I still don't want to do it.

Guest Blog Series - Lone Wolf

Several days ago, a girlfriend shared a brilliant idea with me. She said, "What about guest blog posts?" It came as a solution to share other people's stories since I get sick of writing about me. You'd normally never hear about any of these folks because unlike me, there are people who fear repercussions from being honest about their diagnosis. And sadly, from the stories that I've heard, their often not wrong. Once we know something about a person, we can't un-know it. And that becomes an issue regarding employment; our stories change how we are viewed. 

You guys know me, I have no filter (or a very weak one), and I just speak. But there are times when I've regretted writing this blog. It's rare, but it happens, and it's because I know that the interwebs are eternal. If I apply for a job, there is no hiding my story. I can't disguise what I've gone through, the deficits I deal with. For certain lines of work, it's unappealing for employers to hire cancer patients, especially depending on the specific diagnosis, and prognosis. It's just a fact. Anyway, I reached out to one of my tumor friends, one who is living in solitude with her diagnosis. 

My goal in sharing these stories is several fold. I want patients to have an outlet, to express themselves anonymously. I want to give a voice to different stories so that people learn the dynamics of disease. I wish life was easier, that we could all share our truths openly, but if we can't, at least we can have a format to do that here. I have no idea if there will be others who would be interested in sharing. I really hope there will be more patients, caregivers, family members, friends, etc. that would be interested in sharing their views, their experiences. I wanted to provide this slot for guest writers, because I get to hear these amazing stories, and I learn so much. It makes me a better person, it helps me understand the myriad of lives on this earth. The more I learn about other people, the more compassion I have, the more I can love deeply and be patient, and kind. And it's interesting to hear what other people go through, to hear their perspectives. I hope this provides a benefit to those who choose to write a guest post, and a benefit for those who read them. 

The goal is to start by publishing a guest post once a month. Please let me know if you would be interested in contributing. Let me pull from two posts ago, "your story is enough". Let's learn from each other. I hope you enjoy.

"I love trees, especially when seasons change.
I love their stability, strength, and endurance." - Lone Wolf

“My Story”

So I am sitting here thinking …. “This is the first time I am going public about my diagnosis and yet I am using a pen name…ugh.” There is a reason I assure you.. Ok … So where do I begin? Honestly, I am not sure where to start. I guess I will start on the day my life changed forever, but first let me provide a little history. I am a 30 something mother of young children. I am a licensed mental health therapist, and I have been married to my high school sweetheart since, well forever.

On April 2nd, 2013 I went to the ER because I was having a pretty bad headache. A few days prior I hit my head very hard on our glass shower door. Of course this was because my puppy was up to no good and I went to quickly check on her and BOOM … there goes my head. Anyway, due to the headaches, my husband suggested I go the the ER in case I had a concussion. The ER visit went from “hey your young but let's do a CT anyway to now we need to do a MRI.” Honestly, I thought that I had bleeding in my brain and I was terrified. After my MRI, the doctor returned, and the nurse took our kids out of the room. I began to cry before he spoke because I knew it was going to be news that would forever change my life.

I will never forget that the doctor sat very close to me and said, “You either have MS or a brain tumor.” My husband and I sobbed for several minutes, but then I quickly remembered that my children are down the hall coloring and I need to be strong for them. I had to be!!!

Through time I visited several neurosurgeons, neurologists and neuro oncologists. Hey, I was on an interviewing tour. Remember we pay them!! After speaking with several specialists,  I was preliminary diagnosed with a low grade glioma. You may be wondering if I had any symptoms. The answer is no, not one. The neurologist did put me on Keppra (anti-seizure) just in case. However, three days after I decided to stop taking it I had a small focal seizure in my right arm. So my neuro oncologist decided to take away my driving privileges. Of course I would NOT let that happen!!! I have three very active kids. Therefore, on July 1st I chose to have an awake craniotomy. Ok … I have to be honest here; my two c-sections were more uncomfortable and nerve wracking compared to this craniotomy. All in all, the craniotomy went well and I had over 90% of the tumor resected. 

So pathology .. What's the news? Diffuse Astrocytoma, Grade II. Now this is when my dear old friend Google became my worst nightmare. Search after search said I was going to die and worst of all the time frame in which I can die varied. So here I am “the mental health therapist” that has dealt with everyone else’s crisis now in the middle of her own. Yeah .. I know all the coping skills, to accept what you cannot change, to move forward not backward, to reach out for help, to assess signs of depression and anxiety, etc. However, during this time I was literally a “hot mess.” I was on roller coaster of emotions that never stopped. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't look at my beautiful children or husband, I couldn't look at the sorrow on my parents faces. It was such a dark place in my life and I refuse to go back there. It took so much time to get from there to where I am today. I would love to share this in posts to come. However, I say that the one thing that ignited change was when a woman told me that I live in a house of depression. This shook me to my core. You see as a therapist I have worked with many children and see the ripple effects the parents actions can have on them. At that point, I became stronger, a fighter and a thriver. I have met amazing people along the way, including Jess. Jess and I have a lot of similarities, including diagnosis, but we are similar in one very important aspect … Yes we still live in fear of the unknown but we live, love and laugh as much as we can because guess what … no one makes it out of this world alive! So maybe, and that's a big maybe, my time is shortened but having to face my mortality everyday gave me the beauty of living in the moment. Ok .. Ok .. I can go on about that forever so instead I will address why I have a pen name.

When I was first diagnosed, many people I encountered felt sorry for me. They pitied me. Every face I saw had sympathy written all over it. One thing about me is that I have always been a go-getter. You know, nothing can stop me!!! However, I began to notice that their pity weakened my strength. It just dragged me down. Let me tell you, as a therapist, I  am highly trained on empathy versus sympathy. It was interesting to experience the two first hand. This actually helped me to become a better therapist. So after this experience I limited who I told. I never EVER tell my clients because their sessions are about them … NOT me!! Also, my job doesn't have a clue. I want to be seen as a qualified therapist and not “the woman with a brain tumor.” Oh and get this,  I use medical marijuana. Yeah … Not such a fun conversation to have with parents at one of my kids next game! So, for now, I have a pen name to protect my job, my license, and my children, but as my sister in law always says “I cannot wait for your ‘I’m coming out party!!!!’” Me too!! This baggage is too heavy for me to carry, BUT if I face sympathy, pity or judgement this time around I will be well prepared to point to where the door is!!! As someone I love always says to me and now I say to you, “Light and love.”

- Lone Wolf

Astroturfing

My brother sent me this 10 minute talk by investigative journalist Sheryl Attkisson and it changed my life, and scared the shit out of me. As a person who avidly researches, this floored me. I understand that information is widely manipulated, but I had no idea that it was this bad. It's terrifying, and disgusting, and it makes sense. I hope you find it as interesting as I did, and half as disheartening. Think again about what you think you know, and who you think you can trust.

"In this eye-opening talk, veteran investigative journalist Sharyl Attkisson shows 

how astroturf, or fake grassroots movements funded by political, corporate, 

or other special interests very effectively manipulate and distort media messages."

So what do you do? How can you protect yourself? How do you know what to believe? How much further can you really get with a discerning mind if there's so much conflict of interest, and little disclosure? Sheryl has some tips at the end to help you analyze distorted media.

This is a major issue for me with research studies. There are drug companies that fund studies, or they donate [endowments] to [medical] schools within colleges. It's blatantly a conflict of interest. Everything is so tainted, so tangled. Where's the truth? How is it that our knowledge base that is our researchers, and scientists are so exploited? You could even go as far as say they're bought. It's getting uglier and uglier, and I don't see how people can wade through the sludge to protect themselves. It's just gross.

No Model

A couple of months ago a patient told me that I'm a role model, and it completely freaked me out. That is a ton of responsibility. I don't want to model anything other than my own behavior. How can I be a model for others, what if I have a recurrence? Will patients think they're going to die too? That we're all doomed? That's how I feel sometimes when tumor friends have recurrences. I don't want that on my hands. What if I just want to eat crap for a year and see what happens? You can't do that if you're a role model. When you're a role model you're held to a higher standard; there's good behaviors that you're supposed to exhibit. You're supposed to lead by example. That's a lot of responsibility, and it's definitely too much stress. I'm not trying to be perfect, I'm just trying to be me. And sometimes that means mimosas and scones. And what brain tumor role model would encourage that? (Sugar on sugar on alcohol?!) A naughty one. One that shouldn't be looked up to. 

A couple of days ago I removed my favorite Buddhist saying and replaced it with this.
I like to think I made it up, but probably not.

Last night, a friend helped me see that I am not other people's stories. That when I help, I don't have to own what people are going through. I can assist in a time of need, hold their hand in a moment, but allow and encourage people to continue on without me. It feels a little bit like accelerated parenting. Help people find their wings by connecting them to other people and ideas and resources. It's easier said than done, but it's a lesson we all have to learn. In life, we connect, even if we don't want to. There's these invisible strings that pull us together spiritually, emotionally, physically, and if you're dealing with heavy stories all the time, you can become tangled. Tied up. And that's where I was, in a balled up mess, until she helped me break loose. 

Someone asked me last summer, "What gifts has cancer given you?" And at first I wanted to blurt out, "A horrible case of paranoia." But then in an epiphany, I saw a slideshow of faces, of all the interesting, caring, brilliant people I've met because of my diagnosis. Many of the people, most actually, who read the blog, don't comment. They're private, but they can somehow relate to what I'm feeling, to what I'm going through. Some have had cancer, others are currently undergoing treatment, and most are healthy, but what I write has struck a chord in them. The biggest shame, is that there are exponentially more people who read this blog than engage. I wish people felt comfortable, and it's my fault for not facilitating it, to comment more, to create dialog not just toward me in private emails, but amongst each other. Maybe people don't realize it's easy to post anonymously, or use a pseudonym. 

I feel strongly that we have to be the change we want to see. And sometimes, eliciting that change is just talking. It's getting the information out there. It's discussion. It's provoking thought. We learn invaluable information from others, and I can't express enough the powerful conversations that I've had between patients. They have altered my view on various things, and helped me evolve. But the conversations are private, and I'm not at liberty to share. If only people could open up, even anonymously, we could all benefit. There have been many times that I stopped writing because I thought that my story, my thoughts, my experiences, held no value, so I didn't bother, only to find in private conversations with friends, that my views and stories helped them. So the next time you think you don't have anything to contribute, please think again. Sometimes it's not what you bring to the table, it's the responses that are elicited and the trajectory of problem solving, of piecing things together, with multiple minds, that blow us away. The most beautiful thing would be for readers of the blog to begin dialog even with each other. I field so many email questions, but what if a person chose to post a question in the comments, they could do it anonymously, and just see what people suggest for solutions, or just share their knowledge. The more we talk, the more questions will come up, the more problems we could address, the more we could educate ourselves.

I have grown by sharing my story. It has made me a better person. I took a hiatus because I became overwhelmed, but with the right tools, by setting some boundaries, I think I can continue, and be better for it. It sucks, but no one is going to set your limits, you have to do it yourself. Kinda like the dishes. Okay, that was dumb. But, you know what I mean. I could have shriveled away from the blog, and in essence, I did, but it would be a shame for me to lose the magic. It has brought me so much joy, revolutionized my damaged brain, given me hope, and love, and friendship.

Thank you for giving me space, and also encouragement while I was away. The most powerful thing I've heard lately, was, "Your story is enough." I never feel like I do enough, and to be given permission to own that as a fact - that I am enough - was powerful. I'm absorbing it. I hope you can except it for you too.

Brain Tumor Movie: Volunteers

Many of you get the Musella Foundation newsletter in your email inbox, but for those of you who aren't familiar you'll find a link on my resources page with an explanation. (Or use the link here: http://www.virtualtrials.com)

In the most recent blast, there was a film group looking for newly diagnosed brain tumor patients who would be willing to be filmed for a year or two to document their journey. They're also looking for "survivors" (I'm so sick of that term), that can help share their tricks, and experiences, to provide hope, and perhaps even direction.




I'm not going to apply, I'm already overwhelmed with all of the tumor patients that I help on a daily basis. I realized the other day, I've been trying to help everyone else, putting myself last. I love helping people, I want to make life easier for them, I want to save them. I want to make it so that their diagnosis never happened. But it is at the expense of my health. I stop doing things to make myself healthy, to make myself feel good. I get depressed by all of these serious, heartbreaking stories. I'm not cut out to handle all of this sadness, all of this stress. It's caused me to emotionally eat, I've gained weight, I'm not focusing on what's best for my body - barely exercising. There's too much stress. Imagine, that not only are you dealing with your own diagnosis, but you handle tens of others. And people don't come to me when things are good, they come to me at their worst (their mom, their daughter, their son, their father, their wife, their husband) are just diagnosed, or they're in the midst of a recurrence. They're terrified, and confused. I handle around 20-50 emails from patients a day, not including many texts, and phone calls. And as you know, the subject matter is heavy as shit. (Not literally - that's gross.)

People never realize how many patients I work with because the job is invisible. And that's fine, but when people reach out to me with questions that they can answer themselves with a quick Google search, it really piles up, and more so, it irritates me. I'm realizing that my time is valuable. That it's okay to redirect people to go do their own research, but it's hard to turn people away. I never feel right about it, but people have to be able to help themselves.

I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about patient cases - both the people I redirect, and the others that I work with as peers. There are many who work with me troubleshooting their cases and we learn together. And those relationships are healing and exciting, but those cases are quite rare. As patients we have to turn on our critical thinking. We need to find our True North. I can't provide that to you. The problem is that I'm scared for everybody, and I'm overwhelmed. I never anticipated that this blog would be such a widely used resource. It's an honor, and I'm flattered, but I didn't factor the issue of growth. I can not take on more patients, but I'm happy to answer questions about my doctors, and some of the treatments, I just need people to do their homework first. Please don't come to me with things that you could easily figure out yourself. Because of that issue, I removed my email address from the blog. If you need to get in contact with me, please comment anywhere on the blog, any post, any page. I added a tab up at the top to help people utilize my blog, how to search it for the information they're looking for (Contact Me). I'm in the process of seriously updating my Resources tab so that it's easy to understand, with images, explanations, and links. I want to do it all, help everyone, but I am hurting myself. I handle tumor correspondence from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed. I handle patient problems all weekend, it's non-stop. There are so many problems with that, but mostly, it's not fair to Dan. He never complains, but I love him so much and for the past several years, he has not come first, the brain tumor patients have.

I'm sorry I can't do more. I feel horrible about this. 

Cancer Convos: Episode 2 Fertility

I have been dragging my feet a little bit on posting Episode 2 of Cancer Convos with Crush & Coconuts, for two reasons:

1. We recorded the episode 45 minutes after a seizure that really wiped me out, so my drugged up and exhausted state is cringeworthy.

2. It's a very personal, very raw video that is clearly difficult for me to open up out. As you know I emote, and share in written form - to expose myself in a video is much more intimidating. There's no way to hide your face, the tone of your voice, the tears.

I don't even remember recording, as I blackout after seizures, usually not remembering anything for at least 24 hours afterward so essentially, I'm watching this new with you. Without further adiau, please enjoy our experiences with fertility as it concerns with cancer.

And as always, if you have anything to add, please post comments so that others can learn from your experience. I always love comments on my blog posts, but I imagine the most beneficial place would be on the YouTube channel episode. Thank you for watching! :)

Cancer Convos: Episode 1 #Scanxiety

In September 2014, I went to my premier First Descents program. The experience changed my life, and I came away from the trip with a renewed sense of worth, of confidence, of understanding for other cancer patients of different diagnoses, and best of all some great friends. When you show up for camp, you have about 15 minutes to come up with a camp nickname. The first girl I met was in the airport. Her blue eyes were piercing, she had such depth without even saying a word. It was in her aura. On the ride to the house, she nicknamed me coconuts. She had already been dubbed Crush from when she started her journey with metastatic triple negative breast cancer. We have been friends ever since, and have toyed with the idea of creating some sort of platform to share our ridiculous thoughts/frustrations/experiences. That brings me to today, the first episode on our YouTube channel, Cancer Convos with Crush & Coconuts. It's a fun thing for us to do together, especially since we live on opposite sides of the country. We hope that over the coming episodes we can lightly touch on some of our stories, and help people navigate their cancers too. Today's episode is about #scanxiety, and the types of scans we love and hate. We touch on the pros and cons of different playlists, and the importance of third party independent scan reading centers.

I hope you guys laugh as much as we did during the filming. I felt a little awkward (Jessica quit fidgeting, and playing with your hair!), but I'll get better with more practice. If you like the video please subscribe, or share it with friends.

Our goal is to empower patients with knowledge. There are all sorts of nuances with cancer, and when we talk, and share our stories, everyone benefits!

A Letter to Joe Biden

I just received an email from a brain tumor caregiver about a post he wrote and it is the most eloquent explanation as to why our clinical trial system is failing us as patients. He precisely explains everything I think, and exactly how I feel. It needs no further introduction.

If you haven't seen Surviving Terminal Cancer the documentary, as he references in the letter, please, please click to see it: WATCH THE DOCUMENTARY HERE. And Logan, you are a rockstar! Thank you!



Patients, people, are dying! Until we find a way (and I'm guilty of not figuring out how of solve this problem) to take control of the system of how we treat brain cancer, we will continue to die at a 99% death rate. I may not be a good organizer, but I am willing to do whatever I can to get the message out. To work for the cause in a meaningful way. There is so much money wasted on things that don't help us right now, in this moment. I'm sick of wasting money on awareness, on talk. We need to push legislation through to give patients the opportunity to try promising drugs and treatments. We are given no hope, because the things that could help us are tied up in bureaucracy and it will take years even decades to have access. And during that process, many treatments get dropped because they won't make enough money - not because they don't have efficacy.

I am sharing this Letter to Joe Biden to help spread the word of Logan Lo, about his courageous wife. I don't know how to do it, but we need to mobilize the brain cancer movement in order to gain traction. The AIDS activism, with ACT UP, effectively stopped the requirement of Phase 3 trials for AIDS cocktails, getting the drugs to patients immediately.

Nothing will change until we take our frustration, our fear, and anger, and start being heard. We need the equivalent of the Day of Desperation.

Last Chance

What if today was your last chance? That's the question I ruminated over on the 31st, as I ran a last minute, last chance, half marathon with my buddy Jules. I hadn't trained, but you guys know me - I'm always up for a challenge, and I'm not great at longterm planning. Jules had come up with an idea, a dare if you will, to run a half marathon every month for 2016. But of course, 12 half marathons in 12 months wasn't enough, we had to do a pre-half marathon, a literal last minute half marathon on the final day of 2015.

My longest run in the past year has been around 3 miles. A half marathon is 13.1 miles. A gross difference.

With my track record of race mishaps, this one was no exception. In fact, if I made New Year resolutions, it would be to pay closer attention at races. So, of course Jules and I needed to use the bathroom before we took off for the race, so as others were stretching, jogging in place, and getting ready for the start, we trailed the end of the bathroom line. As the line was halfway through, the race started. By the time we made it out of the stalls, everyone had taken off. So when we started running, we didn't know which direction to head. My instincts in these races are solid 100% off, knowing that, you can guess that we ran in exactly the opposite direction of the path. By the time we figured out where to go and redirected, we were 15-20 minutes late from the starting gun.

It was 21 degrees, and icy in Bellingham, and I hadn't been running outside at all, but the second my legs started moving, I was bouncing and excited. There's this thrilling feeling I get when I run, especially when I'm in a competition. And what I learned is that the best place to start a race is from behind because you never get passed.

While I ran for that 2.5 hours (or 2.3 if you deduct our bathroom and detour incident) I had plenty of time to look out at the beauty that is the PNW. I also had plenty of time to think about my life, my health, my love for Dan, my love for my family, and friends, and the gratitude I have to be here on Earth, spending time learning, and laughing, and exploring. I know that sounds cheesy, I mean it IS cheesy, but it's also truth. Reflection is a powerful, helpful guide that reminds me of all the interesting things I've been able to accomplish, the trials I've gone through, and how fortunate I am to be in the state that I am in now. Sometimes I forget how healthy I am because I get scared by the ins and outs of treatments, of the routine MRIs - the reality of the state that I live in. I'm always trying to be present, but in each moment I feel the weight of a lead shoe waiting to drop. I know it can change in an instant, and that there is a big old blob in my brain that doctors expect will kill me.

As I ran, I kept thinking about what if this was my last day on Earth, what if this was the last time I could run, what if this was the last year of my life, what if this was the last time [fill in the blank]. Would I do anything different? Just the title of the race "Last Chance", was tantalizingly provoking. The combination of endorphins and the tease of theory, of philosophy, of desire, and potential loss, washed over me in a deep cleansing.

Since the 31st I have been crippled with soreness, with pain, but it feels glorious to be alive and although I will most certainly be training for the next 12 half marathons of 2016, I will ride that pain to every finish line in honor of my brain tumor comrades who will never have the luxury.