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• Real. Re·al. Adjective: Actually existing as a thing or occurring in fact; not imagined. Real is used when a thing is what it appears to be. 
• Surreal. Su·re·al. Adjective: Marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream. Also unbelievable. 

For both of us, last Saturday night was equal parts real and surreal. We were attending the second annual “Metsquerade” Ball sponsored by Metavivor — a nonprofit organization dedicated to increasing awareness of advanced breast cancer and equity in research. It was in downtown Minneapolis and we Ubered over thinking we might need a few glasses of wine to get through the evening. 

Now we have both been too a lot of fundraisers. Cassie is a nonprofit fundraising professional and Dan has helped raise money for many candidates and causes. We’ve hosted, sponsored, promoted, and attended more events than we can count but Saturday night was the first time that we’ve been to a fundraiser where one of us was the subject of the appeal.

Two times during the event, Cassie was called to the stage with the other “thrivers” who were in attendance. (MBC patients refer to themselves as thrivers not survivors because, for now at least, survival isn’t a possibility for this terminal disease.) The first time on stage, Cassie looked out at the packed room while a modern dance troupe performed and then each “thriver” was presented with a rose. The second time was for the In Memoriam section of the program which took place while the singing surgeon (yes that’s for real you can google him) sang “Rise Up” and images of those who have died filled the screen. It was all incredibly emotional, and as Cassie got back to our table with tears in her eyes, she said “I don’t like this one bit.”

The rest of the evening was equally emotional. We honored a ferocious local MBC advocate, heard from the volunteers who tirelessly organized the event and raised a significant amount of money for metastatic research. That last part is sorely needed as less than 5% of all money raised for breast cancer research goes to MBC even though 30% of women diagnosed with breast cancer will eventually see it metastasize. When we first learned of this disparity we were shocked and we now want to do our part to support organizations like Metavivor that are committed to narrowing the gap. As an aside, if you are interested in a first-hand account of this research disparity issue check out this local news story (https://youtu.be/TN7QfNcediA) featuring our friends (and Saturday night table hosts) Kim and Dustin Cesarek. 

As the event progressed, we were both overcome. It was impossible to ignore the fact that one day it will be Cassie’s image on the screen being remembered and that is as real as it gets. At the same time, it was all very surreal. We still have trouble believing that this is now our life and how much everything has changed. We sat there squeezing each other’s hands immersed in the reality of the moment but still feeling an intense sense of disbelief. Then we went home and had another glass of wine.  

Today I turn 52. Historically I have always loved my birthday. You can ask any of my friends and they’ll likely attest to my birthday zeal. I always looked forward to it, counted down the days, and usually planned multiple celebrations including the exact same birthday dinner year after year. This isn’t as self-absorbed as it probably sounds, as I also love other people’s birthdays. I think that all birthdays are special — warranting attention, love and gratitude.

This year though, as my birthday arrives, I am overcome with ambivalence. On the one hand, I am looking forward to spending the day with Cassie and seeing friends and family this weekend. On the other hand, I no longer want to mark the passage of time. Nor do I welcome the sense that the years seem to be speeding up. Since Cassie’s diagnosis, I feel like our relationship with time is changing. I want the years to move slower not faster. If we really only have limited years left I don’t want to acknowledge another one passing. I feel that with my birthday I can hear a giant clock ticking faster and louder and I want to cover my ears.

When Cassie and I were talking about this at breakfast yesterday, she said: “I guess birthdays are like everything else now — they’re different.” That seems right. We are living in a new normal and nothing is exempt not even birthdays or holidays (New Year’s Eve is another tough one when it comes to marking time). We still feel joy but it’s often more muted. We still celebrate but with a different lens. We still embrace gratitude but also accept what we have lost as our life has changed. We know we can’t stop time but we want to slow it down, day-by-day, as much as we can. 

This year, as I blow out the candles on the giant birthday cake that I always share with my niece Sylvia I won’t be wishing for the Cubs to win the World Series in 2020. I’ll be looking at Cassie and wishing for more time.