"You don't know it yet, but we are the lucky ones", a little boy tells Lance Armstrong I never fully understood this until I survived a grade IV malignant brain tumor (glioblastoma or GBM) and then it all suddenly became so clear.
I describe the moment I was diagnosed as Adam Sandler's character in the film SPANGLISH states, “There was a crack in the planet." Visions of sick, balding children I had seen on television from Saint Jude's Hospital flashed before my eyes. I could say nothing. According to Cedars Sinai only about one out of every four patients with this type of tumor survives two years. Not only is the prognosis for GBM grim, it is mostly found to affect patients ages 60 and older. At age 21, I was one of the youngest GBM patients in the United States and believe me, cancer hadn't seen a patient like this before.
"GLIO" by Abbie Ackerman
Ms. Ackerman, a brain tumor survivor shared her story and performed her performing art "GLIO" in the 2008 event.
We attacked the cancer with rounds of radiation five days a week with a low dose Temozolomide (TMZ, a chemotherapeutic agent) seven days a week for six weeks total. 18 months of TMZ treatments followed. During this time I lost the majority of my hair, threw up more than I ever knew I could, and decided the most important goal during this period of treatment was to remain as normal as possible. During my one quarter away from school I took dance classes at a local university and continued my workouts at the gym and pool. I also attended a summer dance intensive called the American Dance Festival at Duke University. All the while never believing cancer could affect me and made sure to be my bullheaded stubborn, goal-driven self.
Still popping many TMZ, anti-nausea and Benadryl pills (for the allergic reaction I developed to chemotherapy) I made my way back to Ohio University in January. I managed to audition for concerts and was actually cast in one the quarter I returned. This year was the year I would begin work on "GLIO". This is a multi-disciplinary dance work combining quotations from Lance Armstrong's novel "It's NOT About the Bike, My Journey Back to Life", spoken word and music. "GLIO" followed me through college, my graduation (cum laude), my three year cancer-free anniversary, and all the way out to the west coast where it is my greatest pleasure to offer you this simple glitter of hope.
Being a cancer survivor has opened my eyes to the beauty of life. An overwhelming sense of calmness and clearness has taken the place once held with worry and impatience. I look at problems with a silver lining and have learned how important my friends and especially my family are to me. The sun is brighter and the roses smell so much better on this side. We know we are the lucky ones because we now have the ability to live for the present and appreciate how valuable life truly is.
Dance continues to be one of the best forms of therapy I have experienced. I am here today as a sign that cancer can be beaten, you can survive and you can thrive (and strive to pay the bills). I am also here looking for patients, survivors, family members, anyone interested in using dance as a physical/emotional therapy. This moving art positively influences my life every day and to share dance with others is an opportunity I can not refuse.
Still popping many TMZ, anti-nausea and Benadryl pills (for the allergic reaction I developed to chemotherapy) I made my way back to Ohio University in January. I managed to audition for concerts and was actually cast in one the quarter I returned. This year was the year I would begin work on "GLIO". This is a multi-disciplinary dance work combining quotations from Lance Armstrong's novel "It's NOT About the Bike, My Journey Back to Life", spoken word and music. "GLIO" followed me through college, my graduation (cum laude), my three year cancer-free anniversary, and all the way out to the west coast where it is my greatest pleasure to offer you this simple glitter of hope.
Being a cancer survivor has opened my eyes to the beauty of life. An overwhelming sense of calmness and clearness has taken the place once held with worry and impatience. I look at problems with a silver lining and have learned how important my friends and especially my family are to me. The sun is brighter and the roses smell so much better on this side. We know we are the lucky ones because we now have the ability to live for the present and appreciate how valuable life truly is.
Dance continues to be one of the best forms of therapy I have experienced. I am here today as a sign that cancer can be beaten, you can survive and you can thrive (and strive to pay the bills). I am also here looking for patients, survivors, family members, anyone interested in using dance as a physical/emotional therapy. This moving art positively influences my life every day and to share dance with others is an opportunity I can not refuse.