A Statistic of One: My Walk with Glioblastoma Multiforme traces Stephen Hatrak's life from his diagnosis of glioblastoma multiforme, the deadliest of malignant brain tumors, to the present. He chronicles the trials and tribulations he faced and the losses he suffered along his journey. Faith and inner strength are formidable allies in overcoming any tragedy in one's life, and they played vital roles in his struggle. He was told from the start that the he might have twelve months to live; even so, he defi ed the odds and, six years later, is telling his own story. Despite the dire statistics associated with a diagnosis of glioblastoma, there are several stories of long-term survival; these stories gave him hope that this cancer could be tamed. To overcome this challenge in his life, he had to believe in himself and fi nd his inner sixth sense to strengthen his resolve. Along the way, he learned that life with brain cancer could be tough, but that he could be even tougher. What cancer cannot do . . . separate me from my soul, squash my spirit, and stop the sun from rising in the east and setting in the west; creating new tomorrows and new opportunities. A Statistic of One is an uplifting story of faith and perseverance; how we cope with challenge will determine how we move forward and live life to its fullest. A Statistic of One My Walk with Glioblastoma Multiforme By Stephen Hatrak iUniverse, Inc. Copyright © 2012 Stephen Hatrak All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4759-1634-8 Chapter One It is written that a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step; my journey began on Saturday, February 25, 2006. Although I was suffering for weeks with excruciating headaches, I continued to go to work as an Associate Administrator of a State Correctional Facility. I also continued to workout six days a week, golfed, and was planning to attend my first Polar Plunge to support the New Jersey Special Olympics on Sunday, February 26, 2006. As it turned out life had other plans for me. Upon returning home from the gym on that fateful Saturday morning, I collapsed from the horrific pain I had been experiencing. How I managed to complete my workout and drive home is anyone's guess. A 911 phone call was made by my girlfriend Nancy, and moments later I found myself in the back of an ambulance and soon thereafter, I was in the emergency room at the local hospital. A cat scan of my brain was taken and what seemed like a lifetime, the doctor returned to my bedside and in a soft somber tone, told me that I had a tumor located in the right parietal region of my brain. My immediate thought was that I was going to die. My Daughter, Marisa, was standing over my right shoulder at the time and I remember looking into her eyes and recalling how she ran into my arms when I would pick her up from her after school program when she was a young child. This recollection did not last long, as moments later I found myself in the back of another ambulance traveling to another hospital. Lying there, I asked myself is this the ending of my life? We all want that perfect ending and how it will unfold is anyone's guess. We will all have our own story to tell as we walk through life not knowing what is around every corner we turn. Life is an enigma wrapped in a mystery, a book with many chapters and by God's design we do not know the script that He has written for us. It is His plan that we move in His direction and do what He tells us. After an overnight stay in ICU (Intensive Care Unit) I was moved to a bed in the main area of the hospital. On Sunday, the 26th, I first met with my neurosurgeon that was on call when I arrived at the hospital and we had a short conversation during which time he told me that I was "lucky," he was on call that day. (I would later learn that he was considered one of the top neurosurgeons in the tri-state area). Later that day, I was once again seen by the neurosurgeon who informed me that my operation (craniotomy) was scheduled for Wednesday, March 1st (Ash Wednesday). Prior to my surgery, I underwent a full body MRI to corroborate that the tumor was indeed a primary brain tumor and did not metastasis from another part of my body. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I recall Nancy and my family by my side from the moment they gave me my pre-op sedative to the "stroll" to the operating room. I remember looking up at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights shining in my eyes, and musing to myself, is this what heaven will look like? As it would turn out, I would get a glimpse of heaven, which I will describe later in the book. After several painstaking hours for my family and my girlfriend, the surgeon entered the waiting room and advised them that the operation was successful, (I would later learn that they were able to remove up to ninety percent of the tumor) and that it appeared I may have had a bout of Multiple Sclerosis , and years later I read that a glioblastoma can be dis