I started this Thanksgiving Day intending to write a little drive-by posting of thanks. It became something quite a bit more than that.

I was at first startled the other day to see playing on a medical center television a "end of the decade" retrospective. But it is, isn't it? It is the eve of the end of a decade, as these things are counted. And a good time as any to look back and take stock on the ten years that were...

From the most important angle of my life -- from that of family; it has been an extraordinarily good decade. After the departures of both my grandmothers after long, fufilling lives, there were no further subtractions from the family. None. No further departures in any of the forms of tragedy and sadness by which a family becomes smaller. By that single measure alone, this has been an exceptional decade.
But it wasn't just mere stability, as extraordinary and precious as that gift is. In this decade, my family grew steadily by addition -- by engagement, by marriage, by adoption, and by birth, growing by new spouses and new children. Our family didn't merely not shrink; it grew, welcoming new members to a family already rich in love; including the engagement of Gauss to his to-be wife, herself an old friend from college days.
I could stop this entry right here, and it would say everything that needed saying about the decade that was.

There was the
girl who wanted mustard. There was
Julia and Amazing Technicolor Fingernails. There was
Madame and the boy
in search of his missing inch, the little girl with
the funny elbow and the young lady who wanted to know
where stars were born. And countless more, a few whose tales I've been honored to share here in my Journal.
The greatest honor a physician can recieve is the lives of the patients she is priveleged to become a part of. And there have been many in the ten years since I began my first clinical service, as a newly minted third year medical student starting a year on pediatric hematology/oncology. I hope that I was able to help at least a few of them in some small way. And if I was able to do at least that, then this last decade was a decade spent well.

Twenty years ago, I was an eighth grade boy borrowing from the library a copy of the book
American Association of Medical Colleges: Medical School Admissions Requirements, the pre-med's bible.
Ten years ago, I was a fresh-out-of-the-classroom medical student applying for a place in the Medical Scientist Training Program, the national MD/PhD fellowship that included
resonance42 and
mdrnprometheus.
Through my BS/MD pre-med personal statements in high school, through my medical school applications in college, through the MSTP Career Goal statement I was writing ten years ago, all that I had done was aimed torwards the same goal. For before I was born, oncologists had saved the life of one of my older cousins, a cousin now thirty-plus years in remission and married to his lady love.
The price other men had paid had given our family a prize beyond count. Our family owed a debt to the profession of medicine and oncology we could not possibly repay. But I wanted to, in my own little way, try. And that was the destination I had begun striving for since I was old enough to answer the question.
Twenty years -- even ten years -- is a long time in such a journey. Many folks begin a decade with one goal, and end up somewhere else. Many medical students begin the MD or MD/PhD training program with one vision, and end up somewhere very different years later. Plans change, ideas change, life circumstances change, and there is no shame or dishonor in that.
I was one of the lucky ones. Lucky enough to get all the chance breaks. Lucky enough to have all the stars line up right. Ten years ago in my MD/PhD application statement I set among my goals to become a scientist; to become a physician; to become a pediatrician; and win a place in the profession of pediatric hematology/oncology. And thanks to the extraordinary generosity of many, and luck beyond counting, here at the end of that decade, I won them all.
I *don't*, honestly, know if I am up to the challenge ahead. Better men than I have fallen away and aside; stronger people than me have been broken. And I know that no novice, no beginner, no outsider just preparing to come in, can really understand the true shattering depth of the sacrifice required. I'd be lying if I claimed I wasn't nervous. I'd be lying if I'd tried to claim I wasn't scared.
But long ago, other oncologists helped my own family. All I've ever asked for was the chance to try to follow in their footsteps. For twenty years I have wondered if I have the steel to earn a place in the field of pediatric hematology/oncology. The strength and courage to fight for other families with cancer, as others fought for mine. And now, here at the end of this decade, here at the end of that journey, on the shores of the Maryland Atlantic seaboard we will settle that question, once and for all.

If you asked me at the beginning of this decade what my hopes were for the following ten years, I would say that I would hope my family would continue to be well. And I would say I would hope I might have won the chance to try to help kids with cancer. My life at home and my life at school/work; this decade has been kind to me in both those key fronts. And if that were all that this decade brought to me, I would be profoundly grateful and deeply content.
But that wasn't *all* this decade brought. After all, as overwhelmingly important as my family life and my life in academics were and are, this decade also, for the first time in my life, brought me far, far more...
At the beginning of this decade, I really didn't *have* a life beyond my life with my family and my life at school/work. Don't get me wrong -- I was and remain deeply and richly blessed with many friends *from* school and work. Friends from high school and college and medicine whose friendship I value and treasure deeply, to this very day, with whom many merry adventures have been had in these last ten years. Many friends I first met in academics and in service whom I've had the privelege to introduce to the rest of you. But at the beginning of this decade, *every* friend I had came from that narrow universe of study, work, and worship. The previous ten years from junior high to medical school was a blowtorch-intense direct march with no time for the world beyond. And as rich a life as I had with such a narrow focus, I had just no idea when the decade began how richer a universe was about to open up to me.
Beginning just a few weeks into the new decade, when, out of the blue, a certain wonderful, witty, sassy force-of-nature Aes Sedai from Toledo decided on her own accord to drop into my ICQ box and introduce herself. :-)
The story of that beginning, and all that follows, I have
told before. rasfwr-j, the Wolves Glen Pub, the SCA, the RenFaire circuit, LiveJournal and the Open Diary before it, my first roller coasters, my starting to play the violin again, three weddings I have or will have the honor of being best man in, and the one wedding I (without purposefully intending to) matchmade -- all of it, *all* of it, all beginning that one first night.
I don't think
missysedai had any idea just how much mischief, merry chaos, adventure and more she was going to get me into over the next ten years. I sure as hell had no inkling myself. But one thing led to another led to another led to another, like all of the above -- and so much more this Journal has captured.
It has been one hell of a merry ride that began from nowhere on January 26th, two-thousand-and-ought. And I wouldn't have missed it -- or all the precious friendships that began because of it -- for the world.

I still do hope that I will someday be as lucky as my brother Gauss or my cousin
littleholly or so many of my friends: lucky enough to share that incredible blessing where one's best friend is also one's spouse. I know what the cynics say about the subject. And I've seen enough real-life examples to know the cynics are wrong. If others can find such love, I hope I can too.
Honesty compels me to admit that, if you asked me in 1990 whether I hoped to be married by the year 2010, I would have feverently said yes. If you asked me the same question in 2000, I would have honestly answered the same. I would have hoped that the ten years since 2000, or the fifteen years since I left home to go to college, might have been long enough to find that kind of fortune. But then, I'm hardly the only person still waiting for that stroke of lightning. And considering everything else -- the vast, vast, *vast* wealth of fortune and family and friends that these past ten years -- and the whole of my life -- has been blessed with; I'm not even going to *dare* to sound a sour note on that regard.
I still fervently hope I might yet have the privelege of becoming a husband and a father (and a grandfather, and a great-grandfather.) I hope that, should I win that right, I can be a husband and father my wife and children can be proud of and treasure. But in the meantime, I know I have been absurdly lucky in family and friends -- and the chance to fight for them all. And that is more than enough for any man.

And that, in the end, was the story of the decade that was. The love of family; the honor of service; and a new world of adventures and friendship beyond both I could never have imagined. Any *one* out of three would have been extraordinary. To have all of the above is more than any man has any right to ask for, let alone get. I've been a very, very lucky man. I hope this Journal over the years captures in some small way a bit of the depth with which I feel in that regard.
I had started this Thanksgiving Day off intending to write a short little thing. It ended up turning into quite a bit more. But I think, in the end, the most important things ever worth saying are thank you. And so, for each and every one of you who played a part in the journey: my deepest and profoundest thanks.
From happy homes
And warm beginnings
To distant and uncertain ends
One thing worth
The trial of the journey
Is the love of family
And the laughter of friends
- found written on a rock
on the shore of Lake Michigan
at Northwestern University
Summer, 1997