Two Month Anniversary

Today, April 3rd, marked the two month anniversary of the day I won the battle against the idiotic cancer that had been chillin' in my body for years. Two months ago, I walked from my hotel room in the Washington Hospital Center to the pre-op check-in area, ditched my clothes for a hospital gown, signed a bunch of releases, peed in a cup, gave hugs to my three nurses and mother-in-law and law school best friend, took off my glasses, and got wheeled into the operating room.

Those moments right before surgery were some of the most exciting and relaxing of my life. My iPod was on, my music was playing, and I knew, without hesitation, that I was safe. I knew that Lenz and his chemo had taken me part of the way, and that Sugarbaker and his scalpel would finish the job. I knew that I had prepared well for the physical challenge of the "pick it out/pour it in" surgery and that I would rock my post-op recovery. I knew that all the prayers and well wishes and good vibes were flowing all over the world for me, and that all of my supporters would continue to see me through this battle with love and friendship. I knew, even before it was true, that I had beaten Stage IV colon cancer.

And here I am today. Feeling so good it's not even funny. Eternally grateful to my doctors for their brilliance, eternally thankful for my friends and family, and eternally confident that my cancer warrior spirit will continue to nourish me during this last phase of treatment. Some may think that a cancer diagnosis at the age of 28 is far from a blessing, but I am blessed. And I've got the scars -- and the smile -- to prove it.

So Happy Anniversary to my freshly cancer-free body -- to the dearly departed organs that were removed, to the blood that became a part of me through transfusions, and to skin that still heals around the incision sites. Here's to a lifetime of health and mind/body/spirit harmony. I promise to take excellent care of you and to listen carefully from now on. All you have to do is keep doing your thing.