I woke up today to hear Will in front of the mirror screaming. He can't see out of his left eye.     I called Dr. K to tell him. He says to go immediately to UCLA's emergency room. He would meet us there. When we got there, Will was sent immediately to have a scan of his head. The tumor was now pressing on the optic nerve. Dr. K was contacting his colleagues. Could they operate to relieve the pressure. Could they operate with the hope of removing enough of the tumor to give us hope that Will could be saved? Could Will survive the operation?

It would involve at least 4 specialties------head and neck, orthopedics, opthamology and plastic surgery. That's four teams of surgeons, 20 doctors in all. Each of them would have to personally sign off on the viability of the radical procedure which would take 18 hours on the operating table.   They had to be sure the cancer had not spread to Will's brain or spine. That, although it was a Stage Four cancer and had spread to the bone, it was not yet systemic—in his blood and spreading invisibly to the naked eye. I would become Will's chief lobbiest. With breast pump in a black backpack, I would walk the halls and meet with the surgeons, pitch our personal worth as I would pitch a story idea to get on to World News Tonight with Peter Jennings. I would say that spot on the t-4 vertebrae was inconclusive. I would say none of the scans indicated any penetration into Will's brain and   I would have a neurosurgeon from Duke, someone featured on 60 Minutes weigh in. There are moments where I am so frenetic, either on the phone or meeting with Will's doctors that he would reach out to me and say "Come sit with me." I realize that by 'doing' I feel I will find a cure. That's how I can save this man.

One more call. One more meeting. See us as lives worth saving. Isn't that part of the criteria? Believe that this man should live.

I bumped in to Dr ____ outside the elevators. It was already 7pm and I needed to get home to see Chloe. He said—did you hear? Looks like the team's on board. Plastics (surgery) just signed off. They're on."   Oh my god. I could not believe it! I screamed and ran over to him, dropped my breast pump backpack and jumped in to his arms.

I called Clark and Vivian from the car. "They're going to operate!! It means they think he might, just might kick this thing!!" For the first time in 5 months, I have joy in my heart.

I drove home, and hugged Will's sister. I  called my mother, who in her usual way, sounded doubtful. I am going to sleep tonight not caring the baby will wake me up soon enough. I want to feel the edges of this fragment in my heart called happiness.