Mood:  happy
Today, Sam and I started courses for our sixth semester at UVa. One year ago exactly, Sam was hospitalized for a bad headache that turned out to be a malignant brain tumor.

We were recovering from the death of Sam’s mother and were resting in the quiet aftermath of tragedy. I had just driven to UVa and was exceedingly anxious to see Sam after spending most of our winter break apart. A phone call sent me driving up 29 North when I should have been driving to the book store to get materials for the upcoming semester. The next few weeks are a blur and even now it is difficult for me to look back on the beginning of last year.

Last year seemed unbearable but we are still here and are doing quite well. During the year, Sam had brain surgery, six weeks of radiation, and eight rounds of chemo. He had a PICC line inserted into his arm and was fed through a tube. He developed and overcame diabetes, had two seizures, a staff infection, lost his memory, and had to learn how to walk all over again.

We were devastated, but adjusted. We were sad, but still laughed. We made fun of Sam. He made fun of us. His hair fell out. It grew back. We were angry at each other. We got over it. Sam grew incredibly weak and could not stand. While we were at his home in Reston over Christmas break, he carried a microwave up a flight of stairs.

We went back to school and between us, are pursuing four majors. Courses were tough. We were tougher! Sam gained weight. So did I. We thought we would own a cat. She now owns us. Sam asked me to marry him on one knee at our Italian restaurant. Of course, I said yes. We’re scared, but still dream.

I am terrified. But I am okay. A doctor asked me point blank, “Who takes care of you?” I answered honestly, “We take care of each other.”

This year we danced, laid on the floor and cried, laughed, loved, hated, watched too much TV, slept too much and too late, yelled, threw things, picked them up, drove on every major Interstate in Virginia, swam in an ocean, slept in hospital rooms, moved twice, and battled cancer.

Sam’s tumor fell asleep.

Without medical attention, my Sammy would not be here. Amazingly a brain tumor, which ten years ago would have been virtually untreatable, has been knocked unconscious. The medical advances of the past decade (including the first chemotherapy for brain tumors) keep us, and thousands of others, alive. We know that the treatments are here today in part because of organizations like the American Cancer Society and all of the fabulous people who have made the gifts of donation.

But we still need more. Though asleep, Sam’s tumor is still taking up residence in his brain. Advances in technology are being made quickly and give us hope. I sent Sam’s MRI films to a surgeon in Cincinnati who told me, contrary to what other surgeons had told us, that he could operate on Sam’s tumor! He warned, however, it is best to wait until as long as we possibly can so that the neurosurgery behind it can further mature and more research can be conducted.

We need more research and funding not only for brain tumors, but for all other cancers that seem to be increasing in prevalence around us. Close your eyes and think of three people you know. It is statistically likely that one of them will be diagnosed with this disease during their lifetime. I believe that the treatments will be there when we need them, but we have to make this happen ourselves. We must invest in our futures, in each other.

Last year, my Relay for Life campaign was more successful than I could have ever hoped for as friends, family members, and complete strangers donated over $7,500. As a team at UVa, we raised over $85,000. This semester, we know we can earn six figures. Please remember that The American Cancer Society is recognized as a tax-exempt organization under Section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code. All donations made to the American Cancer Society are tax deductible to the fullest extent allowed by law and every donation of any size is greatly appreciated. Sam’s father, David, has also graciously volunteered to match the first $1,000 of donations made online.

This year, we danced, laid on the floor and cried, laughed, loved, hated, watched too much TV, slept too much and too late, yelled, threw things, picked them up, drove on every major Interstate in Virginia, swam in an ocean, slept in hospital rooms, moved twice…and battled cancer.

You can be a part of this fight too.

Please give to Relay.