At the University of California, San Francisco, Mitchel Berger, M.D.

He's an amazing man, who has done a lot of amazing things in his career. Not that I'm biased or anything, of course not. But in and among the things he's done, he has helped work on SPORE, which is the Specialized Programs of Research Excellence, out of UCSF. I didn't realize that there are several other programs running up there right now, primarily, because, well, why would I? SPORE is a grant-based program funded for the rapid testing on human organ-specific cancers. In other words, new, experimental procedures, medications, etc. for cancer. I honestly don't know, or understand everything that's being done at UCSF, all I know is that what they're doing up there, saved my life. And that my life is precious to me.

I don't know if I'll get sick again. I might. It's possible. The odds aren't in my favor, and they told me that. But for right now, today, my brain is showing 100% clear, my tumor is gone, and the malignant cancer that was inside of my brain isn't there anymore. Dr. Berger took it out, and the program that made that possible, wasn't even something I understand. And truth be told, I don't need to understand it. The research is ongoing, still advancing. It will continue to get better. The scope of it is absolutely mind-blowing. I'm educated, and intelligent enough to actually grasp it well enough to understand what it is that they're doing, and I am amazed, and impressed, and grateful. Above all, I am grateful.

I did what I did, to make sure Monkey would be safe, if she gets sick someday. And in doing so, made it possible for them to save others like me, although I wasn't being selfless. I've had it now bashed into my head that whether that was my intent or not, I've now done precisely that. I think on the give-and-take scale, it broke even. They gave me something I can never repay, and they seem to feel the same. I was too sick and too scared to think about it that way. And now that I'm not sick, and scared anymore, I'm just awed by what they can do, and are doing, and happy to have been a part of it, and equally glad to get to go home, and have a life to live.

It isn't as difficult as I thought. It's not easy. But it isn't as hard as I thought. I'll be going back, for another two years, about once every six or so months, for counseling. To see what they'll be setting up, what I helped to start yesterday. But it's over. And I'm free now, to live my life, on my terms, without clouds hanging over my head.

Some people are wholly suited to their professions. The good doctor is one of those people. He gave me back a life I didn't realize I had. And now, I plan to live it. Not as a tribute to him. As a tribute to myself. Because I finally can see that I deserve to.