Art Of The Brain: UCLA Neuro-Oncology Program

Abstract

Newsflash. . . I sell brain cancer The words came on the wind of a rumor. “I have breast cancer, but I'm not selling it like Judi Kaufman,” someone said. Words laden with spit smacked my heart. I hold residual hurt in the palm of my hand for examination. I see whispers that I hear like screams. “Yes, I AM selling brain cancer. I terrify people while I ask myself ‘What's the problem?’” The deal God and I made was He was to make a map to a place where I can manage my head with hope. An oligodendroglioma, a kind of malignant brain tumor, was resected from my right frontal lobe on November 3, 1997. It is fall 2001, and I am still alive. I sell brain cancer with all of my heart because some die from brain cancer. By the end of 2001, 13,000 people in the United States alone will be gone. Because the brain is the most complex and fragile organ in the body, controlling all of our functions, yours and mine, it makes brain cancer the most difficult kind of cancer to treat. I have more than 100 brain buddy volunteers, 35 who I know personally. We have broken bread together in my home. As we watch people leave this world, we think this is a big-enough reason for us to be selling brain cancer. My friend and co-chair, Joyce Bromiley, watched her Aunt Angie die days after our first event in the fall of 2000. Richard Seymour's mother, Teresa Seymour, died the day after Richard did an operatic concert in her honor to help pay for her medical care. At her funeral, we heard music and know that Richard keeps his mother's memory alive by creating “Music from the Heart”. So folks, it is as simple as that. I do sell brain cancer, as a stargazer. I pray that my work will mean that people like Laura Gibson, age 20, Kevin Green, age 4, along with people like my friend Shari Lewis, Gary Schwartz, Michael Strudnick, Charlie English and Jack Elliot will have a chance at life. I have the chance, right now, to help. When my tumor was removed, I lost my number and time skills. As soon as I knew and told people these disabilities, I found that those who truly love me accept my changes and respect my efforts. I am less inhibited these days and love words that talk truth. I received a great gift from my frontal lobe surgery. My creativity has gone wild, like a yellow blowing balloon on a long string in one hand, and a red one in the other. I have to ask for assistance in blowing big bubbles, so as not to overwhelm my family and friends. I do not have expectations that anyone should be like me or perform like me. Selling disease, like me, is not for everyone. Most keep theirs private, as it should be for others. Believe me, I know that selling brain cancer means we all have a better chance at life. Dr. Timothy Cloughesy, Director of Neuro-Oncology at UCLA, is using emerging technology that is already increasing the survival rate for many brain cancer patients. I think I am one of those lucky ones. You bet I sell brain cancer for me, for my family, for friends. Not so bad, this news, it is good for me. I am glad I can still hear and feel the wind, understand other people's pain. I fly free.