My worst birthday ever

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by Tim Burdick on 23 March, 2014

On Saturday, I celebrated my birthday, dancing in Lucerna. True, it was technically in January, but I wanted to wait for all my friends to be back in town to go with me.

In my 20’s, B-days were not all night dance marathons. A meal with my family and a cake. Nothing big only another calendar day until I reached my 24th.

In the months leading up to this one, I had discovered a bump in front of my ear, so I visited a doctor who told me that he had to do a CAT scan on it, which was on my b-day. It is a test, you need to lie in a narrow metal tube while they take pictures of your brain. Based on the results, he would decide if they did surgery or not.

The night before I was worried about it. What if I was claustrophobic? I mean, you had to be in the tube for an hour? How could I tell? Maybe I could practice lying under my sofa? Luckily my roommate Lief came home and rescued me by taking me out for ice cream.

Bright and early the next day, I presented myself for the test. Exhausted, I slept through the first part of it until I had a panic attack. The nurse had to touch my ankle to keep me calm until it finished. As I climbed out, I promised myself, if you survive this, you will celebrate life. Every year as much as possible, doing all things that you put off because of work or a hectic schedule.

A week later, the doctor told me that the node could be cancerous. The world dropped out from under me. I was too young to possibly have it. Life was just beginning. I had almost finished my university studies. Later, I had my surgery and a tense week followed, waiting for the answer, until I was in the clear.

Seventeen years later, I still go dancing. I dance for another year in the sun, for good friends and family, and for one more night in the disco.

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