Dan Lives

I titled this blog “Dan Lives” to communicate the belief that life is its own reward…and because it’s short. It started as my version of the “Bird Lives” graffiti that appeared in New York after the death of Coltrane, but it has come to serve me well as an affirmation in my journey to recovery from a brain tumor, and as a personalized license plate. But up to now, this space has been devoted to a variety of topics as I have cast about to find my voice. Yesterday afternoon, as I ran through China Camp State Park, I got a little closer.

The route I take most often, from my house to Miwok Meadows and back, is pretty close to 10K, and I had been training for Marin’s fabled Dipsea race next month. The trail varies from canopies of trees and fallen leaves to breathtaking views across the bay, and with a focus on improving my speed (speed being a relative term in my case) I managed to shave a couple of minutes off my usual time. As I ran, I marveled at the ease with which I was now breathing, striding, and climbing hills. I felt very much alive. As I savored the run, my mind drifted to thoughts of those who died before their time, wondering why I was here and they weren’t, and about the forces governing these things. And I reminded myself that I had taken on a purpose, and that purpose was to provide hope, either by example or through words and music, to people who are facing what might seem like a hopeless prognosis.

When I was first diagnosed in 2002, I was given no chance of recovery and six months to live by a doctor in Wyoming. As it turned out, my odds were much better than that, but I went through some invasive treatments and scary periods to get to my present-day blessedly good health, which I owe in great part to an alternative self-healing practice called Chi Gung, and a wonderful teacher. I continue to wonder what would happen to someone who lived in Wyoming instead of the San Francisco area, who couldn’t go to UCSF, and who likely has no way of visualizing a different outcome than what their doctor provides? They most likely die. Not everyone gets a second opinion, and not every doctor balances their prognosis with stories about survivors. (My first doctor definitely did not.) The poor and elderly are most likely to trust their doctor’s prognosis as the only possible outcome, and I believe that when a doctor offers no hope of recovery, people die that don’t need to. Simple as that.

In an effort to raise awareness of the progress being made with brain tumors, I’ve been running on behalf of the National Brain Tumor Foundation and their Racing Ahead program, raising money and being interviewed for a news segment at last year’s Los Angeles Marathon, and participating (“run” might be too generous) in this year’s event in March. In July, I plan to take on the San Francisco Marathon. In the meantime I run, and write Dan Lives, to show that regular people – not just the Lance Armstrongs of the world but lucky weekenders like me – can beat long odds and achieve their own special triumphs…just by enjoying a healthy life. Sharing stories of survival is one of the most powerful things we have to give hope to others facing similar challenges.