This year has been a whirlwind, as far as my health is concerned. At the start of this year, I was preparing for my second round of chemotherapy, evaluating recommendations from different medical teams, and seeking out the best options for surgery. A great deal happened in the next two months leading up to my surgery on February 26.

The summer was also busy with treatment. For five weeks, I was at the hospital every day for radiation and chemotherapy. When I last wrote to you in August, I had just finished that course of treatment, and I was looking forward to returning to normal appetite, energy, and activity.

Health-related news has come much more slowly since then. In August, I returned to my work responsibilities, and also began a modest weekly exercise regimen. Until this year, I never understood those one-pound weights at the gym! Thankfully, I have been making steady progress to slightly bigger weights.

A lot of people have been asking me what it is like to exercise with one lung. The short answer is that it's very easy to get out of breath after a minute or two. The longer answer is that I don't fully know what it's like yet. My main exercise limitation is still general weakness after the surgery. A doctor recently encouraged me that I can expect to make progress for quite a while before I find the limit of my capacity. So I can't use that excuse to skip the gym.

In September, we made a final decision not to do any more chemotherapy treatments. I went to the hospital one last time to have my port removed (this is the small device placed in my chest for administering chemotherapy medications). While I was there, I paid a brief visit to my chemotherapy unit, greeted the nurses, rang the bell, and then they gave me a poem to recite. It all felt very festive.

In October, I had my first surveillance scan. These are CT scans of my chest and abdomen, looking for any signs of the cancer recurring. My first scan came back totally clear, which was great news. My next scan is scheduled for January 9. I will continue getting these scans every three months or so for quite a while.

Every month that goes by without the cancer recurring, my prognosis gets better. A year ago, the statistics for my prognosis were pretty challenging. Statistics are not everything, and my cancer was so rare that it was hard to get meaningful information that way. Still, there were plenty of reasons for serious concern. Since then, everything has gone perfectly: chemotherapy was effective, the surgery was successful, I was eligible for radiation, and my recovery has been excellent. For all this, I praise God, who does not need statistics to consider the future.

One amusing development is my new thick curly hair. No, I did not get a perm. These are "chemo curls," which are pretty common for the first growth of hair after losing it all to chemotherapy drugs. Eventually, I will get a haircut, and it will probably go back to my normal straight hair. But maybe first I should start an 80s band?

It occurs to me that I haven't shared many pictures through this whole experience, so I'll put a bunch at the end of this email. When I look over these pictures, I am moved to thanksgiving for God's care and healing, and for the love of my family, church, and so many friends who have shared this difficult season with me.

Finally, I have a date for my 35th birthday party, also a one-year-after-treatment celebration, to which you are all invited. You can mark your calendars for Saturday, July 19. The plan is to have an outdoor concert here in Sunnyvale. I will send a more detailed invitation when everything is confirmed.

In the meantime, God bless you all, and happy new year!