15 miles for a 15 year milestone
15 years ago today, I walked into NYU Medical Center and had a 1.3mm mole removed from my clavicle. It's hard to even fathom how tiny that is — the thickness of two lead pencil points. And it is even more difficult to comprehend how that tiny cluster of abnormal, invasive cells has altered so many lives.
This morning, I capped a very long week with a 15 mile bike ride – one for each of those years. OK, OK, that might be a great story, but it's not entirely true - more like that I was already feeling tired at 7 miles and figured it would be better to turn around. I knew today was 15 years, and wanted to have some sort of nod to that milestone. (In Ironic Twist No. 1, my oncologist from Moffitt, Dr. Jeff Weber, just left Moffitt for NYU's melanoma program) I've celebrated this day in many ways before, but having infusion No. 43 yesterday, there seemed no better idea than to go all Armstrong this morning and bang out some miles on the road bike. Cycling and doping opinions aside, I've always admired his attitude towards cancer, and the inspiration and assistance he and Livestrong have provided others.
Speaking of my infusion, I arrived just in time yesterday to get mine; unlike the first 42, we were planning on broadcasting this one to the world as part of the Labroots conference I wrote about on Wednesday. We hit some technical snafus, so our planned "Broadcast T.J.'s infusion via webcam" became "voice-over T.J.'s PowerPoint slides." It was a little frustrating that we couldn't get everything working right (the Project Manager in me would have fired T.J. the Presenter), especially since the fix was so simple – literally, a speaker was needed for a desktop. Jen said I started out a little choppy, but smoothed things over as the presentation went on. I'm not sure if I'm a better second-half player, or pembrolizumab is a performance-enhancing drug.
If you didn't get to tune in, you can actually get it on-demand by going to the Labroots Cancer Research and Oncology page and either logging in or registering for the on-demand access. After registering, go to the Agenda at the top and scroll down near the bottom to find my presentation.
The reason for the long week, for not being able to get the Labroots/Holy Cross system working and for flying in the day of an infusion, was a short trip home. Not for fun (that's coming up for Thanksgiving), or for a conference (I'll be in Philly in two weeks, chairing part of the EyeForPharma conference), or even for a fundraiser (that's the MRF/ Wings of Hope Gala on 11/5 and yes, you should attend). I was there to support extended family as they went through their version of hell week.
My brother, sister-in-law, and her entire family finally found justice for David Compton. Former Deptford cop James Stuart was found guilty of knowingly murdering Tracey's brother. The verdict came in during my Labroots presentation. (Luckily my phone was off for that hour, or the online audience would have been thoroughly confused by my sudden outburst.) I was able to juggle my infusion week schedule (with LOTS of help from Tia and Eileen at Holy Cross – thank you ladies!) and make it to the courtroom Tuesday morning just as closing arguments were beginning (with cousin Mark blatantly ignoring speed limit laws to make that possible). I missed nearly everything associated with the tragedy – it happened the weekend before my TIL trial began, so I could only blog about it being a source of perspective and determination, and dealing with mortality. It was a blessing that things could be shifted so much, and that I didn't miss my flight back after my phone died overnight and I somehow woke up at 5:30 a.m. on Thursday.
During the proceedings, the jurors were kept from hearing much about David so they wouldn't be "influenced." Now that Mr. Stuart is wearing the county blues, the jurors and everyone else should get a chance to see a picture of David without blood, and hear how he was a great friend, a kind soul, a thoughtful intellect, and a warm heart. His journey from a Korean orphanage to successful engineer should have been a heartwarming story; instead, it takes an untimely tragic turn, one that, until yesterday, had an incomplete final chapter. The epilogue is that he leaves behind parents, a sister/brother-in-law, a nephew, a niece/goddaughter, and countless family members and friends whose lives were better for the 27 years he was here. And fifty-some people who were given the gift of life in some form or another when his organs were donated. His memory will be carried on proudly by every one of those people mentioned above. Thank you, David.
T.J. Sharpe shares his fight against Stage 4 Melanoma in the Patient #1 blog. Read more »