Funny thing happened on Tuesday that reminded me of where we live now, which is in a lovely “age restricted” community called Sun Lakes. San found a one-story rental house for us in this retirement neighborhood after my diagnosis and the various medications I was given made it clear that climbing stairs, as I had been doing in our apartment, was probably not a good idea. Amazing woman, my wife. In the midst of dealing with the bad news about me and all the scramble that came with it, she managed to find a perfect place for us – light, airy, spacious, and quiet. Great kitchen. I add only that San makes a point of telling everyone that while she is not technically age-eligible to live here, I am. Haha! Yes, indeed, I have suddenly become the “old man.” Literally.

So, okay, let me set the scene: It is an ordinary blue skies and sunshine bright summer day and we decide to all go out with San to grab lunch and complete a few errands. I like to get out of the house at least once a day and even though the temperatures are now firmly in the 100s, I still appreciate getting out for a ride, walking here and there, and otherwise shaking an Arizona summer’s dry-heat hand. Plus today there is the promise of Chipotle burrito. I haven’t had a Chipotle burrito for a long time.

Dr. Rohit Sud always knocks on the door to the consulting room before entering it.  We have a nine o’clock appointment with him and Ashley, the always-chipper nurse, had already taken my vitals. I was happy to know I was still vital after all these years. I’ve even gained five pounds, which in other circumstances might be a cause for concern, but among those of us in Cancerland, weight gain is a blessing.

While Ashley was going about her tasks she told us about her weekend birthday trip to Vegas, where all she won was strengthened legs from all the walking she did up and down the Strip. She is 27 years old, an ex-cheerleader, and clearly still in excellent physical shape. We had to laugh. San’s folks used to walk that Strip without complaint back when they were in their 60s and before the closer casinos opened up along The Big Muddy. But even Ashley’s walking travails were related to us with a smile on her face. She is a happy soul doing good work in the service of others. We love to start our all-day chemo treatments with my weigh-in and that special Ashley smile.

Dr. Sud is always on time. Always. We are especially grateful for his on-time habit because today is the day we learn about my test results from last week. So, after he enters and we exchange a quick “hello, how are you?” of the phatic communion variety, he sits down in a chair, pulls it closer to both of us, and opens his file. “So,” he begins as a big smile can’t help but widen on his face, “the results are in and here they are.”

One of the more curious aspects of being “in remission” occurred to me when I was working on my book, Final Draft. Back in September when I started writing what I still envision to be an adventure story about a boy who followed a white rabbit down a hole and who then grew up to be a curious fellow indeed, I knew I needed something to preface that old rabbit story. I needed something that combined my lifelong interest in reading and in crafting narratives with a final “summing up,” by which I mean some useful conclusions about what those narratives and living by the logic of them have meant in my life and what I have learned along the way.