Today I turn 32. Thirty-two does not seem like a milestone. Typically I would just go to a sports game and buy an O’Neal jersey to celebrate. But if you have grade 4 brain cancer you are grateful for every birthday. Well technically I have “astrocytoma grade 4 IDH-mutant” which means statistically, I was supposed to die six months ago. (The sporty side of me loves the statistics.) 

Needless to say, 31 was the most challenging year of life. I was reeling from 30 in which I had an awake craniotomy and 30 sessions of brain radiation. Then at 31, I completed 12 rounds of chemo and I was thrusted into “after” treatment with no playbook. That is no fault of my own. I am currently in the “wait and see” method as there are no approved lines of treatment available currently for me. Doctor’s tell me things like “Just focus on enjoying your family.” “Make the most of your time.” “This cancerous tumor is going to come back, so prepare.” There are few illusions of hope with this term&!#$ diagnosis. 

Yet, I am manufacturing hope for some overtime. I don’t know what “Overtime” means. Am I already in the “overtime”? Is “overtime” the miraculous line of treatment? Is “overtime” an angelic cure that comes? Is “overtime” a celestial place?

In a couple weeks I will get an MRI with contrast to see if my brain cancer has returned. In the meantime I’m going to work my ass off, do dinner with my Mom, watch as much WNBA that my eyeballs can manage, have Prosecco with friends, and revive my Hinge profile. Yolo.  

Is there any overtime? I have no idea, but happy 32nd birthday to me. Statistically it will take a miracle for me to see 33. I’m open to all miracles . 

MJ