On August 6, I will celebrate 10 years cancer free.  To mark the occasion, I am raising money for the Huntsman Cancer Institute’s melanoma program. Per protocol, I’ll be doing a suitably painful bike ride (penciled in as ~100 miles and 11k ft of climbing) in concert with the fundraiser.

The survival statistics available in 2010 gave me less than a one-in-four chance of being alive to write these words. Perhaps the primary reason I ended up on the right side of that divide is providence, luck, or whatever you want to call it. But the doctors, nurses, and staff at Huntsman did everything humanly possible to help me beat melanoma. Quite simply, everything that went right with my cancer treatment happened at the Huntsman Cancer Hospital, and everything that went wrong happened elsewhere.

Huntsman got the big things right: the right surgeon to remove the tumor from my neck, and the right clinical trial to get me access to high dose ipilimumab 6 months before FDA approval came through. They’re a research institution and they work tremendously hard to ensure patients get the very best treatment available.

But they got everything else right as well. My doctors consistently provided me clear explanations, and the nurses were unfailingly attentive and kind. Surgery and immunotherapy were supplemented with physical therapy, counseling, and even a visit with a dietician. (She handled it admirably when I admitted that the only food I’d eaten that day was an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s.) I aspired not just to survive but to thrive, and they provided support for me as a whole person.

Above all, I was treated with profound humanity and kindness. The scariest period of my life was spent visiting the hospital week in and week out, and yet I have tremendous affection for the people and the place. The list of examples is far too long to enumerate, so I’ll provide you the most recent one. Earlier this month, I visited Clinic 2C for the first time in nearly five years (for a routine mole mapping now that I live in Utah again.) Two of the women working at the front desk, Pam and Patti, recognized me and seemed genuinely happy to see me and hear that I was doing well. Pam asked if I was still living in California, which is indeed where I was living the last time I visited.

When I mentioned survival statistics earlier, I made a point of specifying that I was referring to the 2010 vintage of melanoma survival statistics. The corresponding statistics today are much higher (and yet still far too low) in part because of the research done at Huntsman and its peer institutions. These are tumultuous times, and other issues have rightly drawn attention over the last few months. But the Huntsman Cancer Institute continues to do great work to address a horrifying disease, and if you have the means I encourage you to donate to this worth cause.