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A TIME Magazine Best 50 Website for 2007, the I'm Too Young For This! Cancer Foundation, i[2]y, is the nation's fastest growing advocacy, support and research organization working exclusively on behalf of survivors and care providers under the age of 40.

Hosted By: Planet Cancer
When: Friday Oct 26, 2007
at 6:00 PM
Where: Austin, TX 73301
United States
Description:
Planet Cancer

Click Here To View Event

Cancer's Dirty Little Secret
For Survivors Under 40, Nothing's Changed

By Matthew Zachary

There's a dirty little secret in cancer. The past 30 years of research have yielded amazing strides. On the whole, according to the National Cancer Institute (NCI), remission rates have increased significantly and survivorship rates are at an all time high.

Great news, right? Sure... if you're 65. Or 9. You see, cancer survival in young adults, aged 15-39, shows little progress across the past 30 years, according to reports from the NCI ("Closing The Gap", Fall 2006), The New England Journal of Medicine ("Chronic Health Conditions in Adult Survivors of Childhood Cancer", 10/06) and the journal Science ("In Their Prime and Dying of Cancer", 08/07).

Allow me to reinforce it this way: When I was diagnosed with brain cancer 12 years ago while a College senior, I was given 50% chance to live for five years. You'd figure that, 12 years later, with all of the progress we've made, should I or anyone else get that same brain cancer today, that 50% would be a lot higher.

It isn't – and the same would be true if I had leukemia, colon cancer, breast cancer, osteosarcoma or any other cancer. Bottom line – if you are diagnosed between 15 and 39 today, just pretend it's 1977 when disco was king and the average 5-year remission was 50%.

Yes, cancer's dirty little secret isn't just that we're treating the symptoms and not the cause, or that no one really knows where the billions we donate to charity actually goes, but that the young adult community has been left out, cast aside and fallen through the cracks by the machine that is the cancer healthcare continuum.

The following are solid NCI figures… Out of the 1.3 million cancer diagnosis each year, less than 80,000 occur in pediatrics, adolescence and young adulthood, representing ~6% of all incidence.

On top of this, it's important to note that, while there are approximately 9,500 new cases of pediatric cancer annually, there are close to 70,000 cases of young adult cancer annually.

Now, what's really going to bake your noodle is that, while 94% of all cancer incidence occurs over age of 40, 1 in 10 survivors is actually under age 40. That's over one million young adult survivors in the US alone. But wait - there's more. Out of these one million, roughly one third are long-term survivors of pediatric cancer, rather than having been diagnosed in their 20s or 30s.

This is generational cancer disparity at it's most powerful.

The part that is most surprising is that Gen X (born between 1964 and 1979) and Gen Y (1979-present) have demonstrated remarkable consumer behavioral trends when it comes to mobilizing and organizing, albeit sometimes involving issues such as voting on a reality show instead of in an actual national election.

However, these 124 million Americans (Brookings Institute) are the ones who brought us Google, FaceBook, YouTube, Flickr, and Second Life. Yet again, they're the same ones who turned a video of a dramatic prairie dog (http://youtube.com/watch?v=jHjFxJVeCQs) into a global viral phenomenon. (It was a hysterical little clip.)

Did you know that a 2006 youth culture consumer market research report by The Intelligence Group indicated that young adults list cancer as their number one public health issue.

So where is everyone? Why isn't there a Gen X/Y revolution in the streets, across social networks or spreading virally on the tubes of the Interweb? Or are they all focusing their efforts in the wrong places? (and I don't mean World of Warcraft.)

Consider this my fellow Gen X/Y'ers: It is this writer's belief that the young adult cancer problem is only going to be solved by and within the young adult community.

By this, we need to recognize that the leadership of the big box cancer organizations, as well as a large percentage of cancer researchers are boomers and WWII generation folks who are out of touch. (Example: I had a recent conference call with a regional committee for a big box cancer group and they never heard of YouTube.) It is our job not only to motivate these people to change but develop our own "me generation" philanthropy model to solve our own problems with the same fervor we had for Sanjaya.

So, the next time you help raise money for a big box cancer organization, ask them if they support young adults affected by cancer and/or if they focus even a fraction of their research billions on young adult oncology. Is it just a random, token support group, or a singular one-time effort, or do they have an actual policy about rectifying our public health inequities?

I can pretty much assure you that the answer will be no. Why? Because no one does any clinical research in young adult oncology, nee a small handful of under-funded and under-recognized researchers and investigators. Correct me if I'm wrong but I know most of the leading young adult oncologists practicing today and they are all in consensus. Hell, they helped to write to those aforementioned scathing public health reports.

Are we're screwed?

Will no one answer the call of young adult cancer research? Because unless someone does something, in another 12 years, whoever gets diagnosed with my brain cancer will still only have a 50% chance.

Wake up GenX/Y'ers – this is our cancer, our fight, our calling. We have to take care of our own because no one else does. No one has yet risen to the occasion until we figure out how to turn this cause into the next "so-retarded-yet-I-can't-look-away" rodent video.

Yes, we're invincible and 'this can't possibly happen to us' – but it can, it does and it's scary as hell, especially since there's been no progress in 30 years. Let's rethink where we donate our time, our talent and our money. Does your cancer charity care about young adults? Do they simply get it? Do you even have a cancer charity?

We are The I'm Too Young For This Cancer Foundation For Young Adults – and we advocate on behalf of over one million survivors under 40 as well as over 200 cancer advocacy resources just for young adults. We're 'all the things you never know you always wanted' and we're only about survivors under 40. We are the new kid in town and we are your gateway. We're also TIME Magazine's Best 50 Websites 2007 so we must be doing something right after only 8 months of operation.

Our mission is to end isolation and we are doing just that. We have the sheer numbers, the voting power and the influence to change the rules. With your help, we can be that organization who emerges as the cancer research pioneer in young adult oncology.

This is why we fight - because remission is not a cure and survivorship is all the rage.

Stupid cancer. Survivors Rule.

Hosted By: I'm Too Young For This!
When: Tuesday Sep 25, 2007
at 8:00 PM
Where: Gotham Comedy Club
208 West 23rd Street
New York, NY 10011
United States
Description:
I'm Too Young For This!

Click Here To View Event

I received a horribly disaffected and disturbing email today from a friend and fellow survivor about how she was more or less completely cast asunder and emotionally stomped upon by the Susan G. Komen breast cancer group for trying to be collaborative and support others at a Race For The Cure event. And I quote, "This is on top of not being able to do the 3-Day because I "only" raised over $1100, and not the minimum of $2100. They told me I knew the minimum, and my response was this: would they rather I, and others, not try at all, because it's too daunting?" That's $1100 they didn't have before. I just feel like what's really important - providing help, info, and resources for patients, caregivers, loved ones, and survivors - has gotten lost somehow with Komen."

--

My response:

Sadly and truthfully, cancer, like anything else, is a business. Komen and American Cancer Society (ACS) are the biggest stakeholders in this game and they have the most to lose by diluting their brand equity in the market.

Yes, we're a market. These two groups take in billions of dollars each year and as such, they don't have to play with others in the sandbox because they don't need to. There's nothing in it for them. They also have the caché to play "evolution" and weed out those who don't meet their fundraising demands, which, I think is the coldest and most dispassionate cut of all. But now it's a game that we're all catching on to.

Again, there's just no value proposition for collaboration because there's no way to collateralize any opportunities without compromising their "stakeholdership" and "shareholder" value. Yes, we're emotional stakeholders and shareholders, too.

For over a combined 100 years, these two organizations have been the only major games in town to associate with and feel part like you're part of a community. Then Lance Armstrong Foundation (LAF) blasted on to the scene, broke the mold, made cancer advocacy hip and attracted a new crowd of passionate people who realized, like any other consumer-driven sector, we have choice.

I'll say it again - we have choice in who we donate our time, talent and treasure to. It's not a two-store big box mart anymore. On a scale not seen before, hoardes are flocking like geese (really smart geese) to other charities whom they simply have a better affinity with.

We are witnessing for the first time a balloon-deflation effect with the big box groups. They're losing human capital because they're old school. They have not kept up with the times and, in my personal opinion, they operate in a vacuum with no finger on the pulse of our social change needs. In fact, Komen recently re-branding as "For The Cure" it's just another example for me to reevaluate my own personal social investments.

Heavens forbid while at a Relay For Life (RFL) or Race For The Cure (RFC), a young survivor discovers other incredible support resources such as i[2]y. Tamika & Friends, PopSmear, Planet Cancer, LifeLab, Fertile Hope, SAMFund, Ulman Fund, The Wellness Community, CancerCare, etc...

ACS and Komen might lose loyalty. People might take their interests elsewhere. I can see it now. "Oh mercy the confusion! I'm holding a Tamika and Friends brochure while at a Race For The Cure? What direction to I run?" Where'd everybody go? Where's my shoe?"

I am now compelled to point out the elephant in the room. Ask LAF if you could bring support materials from any of the above young adult groups to LIVESTRONG Day (LSD) and they will say "no" for the exact same reasons as Komen and ACS would. Confusion of funding. I know from personal experience. We have a cadre of passionate young adults (2,500 strong), some of whom will be attending LSD and most of whom, under their own volition, wanted to hand out I[2]y benefit CD/toolkits and were rejected.

Now, I believe in LAF very strongly if only for one reason alone - they're not about "the cure". They're about living. It's not about the "cure" anymore, it's about survivorship: better medical technology with a major shift in focus to quality of life and social networking. Lance is the new Magic Johnson who destigmatized a nation's preconceived notions about an epidemic disease and created social change. LAF upped the bar and put the responsibility for changing cancer into the powerful hands of the people - because it certainly ain't coming from "W".

That said, LAF is in an unenviable position and walking a tightrope. We want them to be successful and smash down barriers (which they've already done so well). But at the same time, we, as consumers, are demanding collaboration and cooperation on the part of our national advocacy groups which does not seem to mesh well with their strategic plans. There's just no money in it for anyone - except the smaller groups, perhaps - to collaborate.

So what do we do? We demand and foster change with our wallets our calendars and our advocacy. If you don't like an organization for it's non-collaborative policies, stop giving of your time, talent and treasure. Just walk away and let your shadow do the talking. (And then be sure to blog about it and let them know what changed your loyalty.)

Now the NYC-cynic in me feels compelled to say that, since they take in billions, they'll probably won't care about one person but they'll take notice when attendance starts plummeting nationwide.

We are at a tipping point. Social change is all around us. Cancer, which was once considered an immediate death sentence for most, is now considered a life sentence for many, meaning, the elusive "cure" that Nixon, NCI, ACS and Komen have been magically racing for is looking more and more like a chronic condition coupled with a lifetime of vigilant self advocacy, disease management, and social networking support.

Like I said in the beginning of this diatribe, we are a market. And we're 30,000,000 strong. If you don't like what's on TV, change the channel. Yes, it's as simple as that. Is your charity up with the times? Do they give you what you need? Are they still representative of your interests?

You have a choice.

Now make it.

Thank you. I'll be here all night Try the veal.

Today is last day of prednisone and I had my first night's sleep in 10 days. I've been sleepless in Brooklyn generally crashing between 9am and 1pm every day since the 1st. It's been ridiculous. Ten days without routine sleep.

Hearing in my left ear has improved to about 75% which is great but it's temporary as I'm now off the steroids. I don't know if it will completely disappear again but am seeing a specialist a week from Monday. I still have a constant echo chamber effect with a UHF-like TV static when there is no ambient noise (making falling asleep very very hard, even without steroids) and, in spite of better hearing, it still sounds Charlie Brown Teacher-ish. I can finally accept that it may never be the way it was but I'd just like concrete answers and only time will bring those.

A definite improvement but behind every door are three more. Small steps. I'm just so out of whack from insomnia and pharmacology. My days and nights have flipped and I'm all jittery, irritable and in a cloud (more so than usual for me). Prednisone is a beast.

Thanks to everyone for being there.

--
Matthew Zachary
Founder, Steps For Living, Inc.
http://StepsForLiving.org

"I'M TOO YOUNG FOR THIS!"
The Web's premiere social resource portal for young adults with cancer.
Just go there... and get everywhere.
http://ImTooYoungForThis.org

Life is about choice.
Remission is not a cure.
Survivorship is all the rage.

Why we fight...

I remember the first time I sat down at a piano and asked my mother, 'Where do you put your fingers?" She showed me a simple five-note scale with both hands and, almost instinctively, I repeated with precision. The next words out of her mouth were, "You're getting lessons." At that point, I know music would always somehow be a part of my life.

I was 11 years old. It was 1985.

It wasn't until my third year of college until I realized that a true career in music was possible. My dreams of composing symphonies for film were drawing nearer with each semester. A trip to USC Film School in the spring of 1995 sealed the deal for me and I knew where my life was going, an energized and passionate neophyte with dreams bigger than himself.

Someone once told me that if you want to smash your goals on the rocky shoals of intention, then simply tell God your plans. In retrospect, now 11 years later, that seems a double-edged sword. Truth to power.

Summer 1995: I was enjoying a paid summer internship for Dean Witter on the 68th floor of Tower One of the World Trade Center when I first began to notice that my left hand was behaving strangely. (Growing up in New York City had many advantages but the opportunity to work for three months at this facility was a life-changing event for me, then 21.) It wasn't until I got back to school and begin playing piano again (upwards of 60 hours per week), that I noticed a major difference.

The fall of 1995 was fraught with uncertainty as my left hand slowly lost it's dexterity and eventually failed all fine motor coordination tests, rendering this aspiring pianist (and lefty) unable to perform, write or type. A diagnosis of brain cancer in December would make strange sense of the madness and seal the deal that - perhaps only for now - my dreams must be put on hold.

I could spend paragraphs upon paragraphs about what it felt like to be a young adult with cancer whose invincible life came tumbling down in an instant. Two words, however, can sum up the experience: isolation and resilience. No fear. Perhaps blind ignorance and deft denial served their purpose but, in the end, how dare this get in the way of my dreams? I have a life to live and damned if I let this stop me. The pianist who couldn't play and the college senior who couldn't graduate was determined to see through this uncertain future.

"When am I going to die," I asked the doctor.

Or is this death?

There is a price to pay for surviving anything traumatic, medical or otherwise. Few, if any escape unscathed. That seems to be human nature. So, how do we cope in the aftermath when subtle - or not so subtle - reminders consistently influence and compromise closure, or the illusion thereof? For me, I had the mixed blessing benefit of being told that my life in the wake of my cancer diagnosis may not be a bed of roses given the intensity of the post operative treatments barraged upon my body for 33 torturous sessions of excessively high dose craniospinal radiation (5940cg).

Right off the bat, upon completion of treatment, I had lost a remarkable 110lbs in less than three months. After throwing up 5-10 times per day nonstop for that entire period, I had eroded the lining of my esophageous (antiemitics were of modest help), inducing a permanent physiological and neurological dysphagia (swallow disorder). My saliva glands were decimated (and, to date, only operate at 70%) leaving me with a chronic xerostomia (dry mouth) I was left virtually infertile, my testicles and sperm production ceasing to function correctly. My brain, eyes, ears, glands, spine, heart, lungs, liver, kidneys and primary chest organs now all faced a potentially compromised future of chronic illness, physiological deficit and, even more scarily, a near certain and unpreventable secondary recurrence of cancer as a direct result of my treatment within 10 to 20 years.

Needless to say, I may have survived, but only in the loosest sense of the word for the "therapy" prescribed to save my life, nearly ended it back then and may be the causal eventuality of a life cut short before it's natural time.

I presently live. That's what I do. As best I can.

And I live a "better than the alternative" lifestyle. Meaning, I'd rather be here with these issues than dead and useless to the world.

Good came from this.

Three years after treatment, in late-1998, I finally got busy living and moved on. One of the happiest days was when I released my first solo piano album - Scribblings, songs from which had been composed in my head for almost three years post treatment as it took that long for my left hand to regain it's strength and dexterity at the keyboard. Balance in my life seemed to have been restored. I may never be the Hollywood composer but at least I still had my music - a peaceful reconciliation for a 25 year old. A second album followed two years later and a third was composed but never released.

And so, in addition to the Vaudevillian cornucopia of maladies, chronic symptoms and physiological setbacks that I had learned to live with, they were but only the beginning, nee a staging ground for the true tests that were yet to come.

In 2003, my fertility returned however I will forever experience extremely low counts and below average motility. I must continue to spend $400/year in sperm banking in the event my wife and I require a reproductive specialist for fertility assistance.

In 2004, it was an intermittent arrhythmia.

In 2005, it was ocular and periodontal shingles along with the chronic onset of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Colitis and Gastritis.

In early 2006, I began to experience catastrophic depression and mania. I was diagnosed bi-polar and it was the general consensus of my providers that this was yet another latent influence on brain chemistry from my treatments.

In late 2006, I had a testicular cancer scare as a result of a new circulatory imbalance.

On March 18th, 2007, within a span of 3 days, I lost all hearing in my left ear. The pianist who once lost the use of his left hand is now unilaterally deaf. The diagnosis? "Sudden Sensory-Neural Hearing Loss", a rare condition that my oncologist confirmed with me is, without a doubt, 100% connected as a long-term side effect of my postoperative brain radiation. Essentially, my cochlea stopped working. Given it's location to be within millimeters of my tumor and the subsequent stereotactic gamma rays which beamed through my brain, I suppose it was only a matter of time before it gave out.

I can only imagine what may lie ahead but it is with utmost certainty that I will continue to be able to say, "I am still here."

Is this what it means to be a cancer survivor?

And yet, more good came from this.

A decade of experience and reflection and dissatisfaction yielded the birth of Steps For Living, a nonprofit support, communications and social advocacy agent for young adults with cancer whose goal was to use music and the arts to create lasting change in how the public relates to cancer. I founded this organization because I believe that this orphaned age group within the cancer continuum stands the most to lose without proper diagnosis, adequate targeted treatment, access to quality care, long-term follow-up programs and social networking support as they have the rest of their lives to reconcile the trauma, move forward and confront whatever ramifications (physical, spiritual, financial, emotional, practical) that may foster in that wake.

In our small, niche world, we're a hit. And we're making a difference by fostering connections, building communities and reversing the feelings of isolation faced by so many.

The past eleven years have played out for me as an orchestrated symphony of odd medical issues and rare, unique chronic health conditions all baffling physicians, defying conventional wisdom and wreaking havoc on my perception of being 'cured'. I am certainly not alone.

And this raises a controversial issue.

What does "Curing Cancer" mean? Seriously, what does it mean? I personally equate "cure" for cancer with "victory" in Iraq. It's nebulous and subjective but certainly very catchy, sexy and marketable. I remember being told, "You're cured. Go home. Get on with your life."

Evidently, that's not necessarily the end of the story; for me and millions of others like me.

I do not deny that the physical malignancy is gone. It's been 11 years and there is still no evidence of biological recurrence. So everything is hunky dory, right? Uhm... no.

I may be "disease free" or "in remission", but I am certainly not CURED of cancer. Remission cannot be equated with cure. Getting cancer and surviving is not a cure.

Remission is not a cure.

Being disease-free is not a cure.

I get sick to my stomach when I hear of organizations relaying, racing, running, walking and talking about a cure for cancer. In my opinion, there is no cure for cancer in the same way there is no cure for HIV, Diabetes, Asthma, Allergies or Autism. Fifteen years ago we funneled billions into HIV/AIDS research to find a cure and what was the end result? Better medicine. Better technology. Chronic condition. Manageable disease. Great strides. Revolutionary health outcomes. Lasting social change.

No cure. Or, from a certain point of view, the 'cure' was in the 'chronic'.

I am not looking to trivialize this in any way but in the US at least, people live with HIV by taking a cocktail of medication every day for the rest of their lives. The virus never gets worse but it never gets better. Now considered a manageable disease, it was the new diabetes. A death sentence had become a life sentence of lifestyle management, dietary restrictions, ongoing medical costs and endless prescriptions. Today we don't talk about "curing" AIDS, we talk about "ending" AIDS. The semantics make a difference.

In a similar parallel, I have several young adult friends who live with cancer, taking medicines similar to the HIV cocktail where the cancer lies in stasis, never worsening and never retreating. Is this a cure or the end result of better research, targeted therapies and molecular medicine? Instead of talking about "curing" cancer, should we be talking about "ending" it? Is the 'cure' in the 'chronic'?

With the dawn of the 21st century, it seems time to get with the times.

It should be recognized that the notion of cancer's "cure" has been summarily supplanted with more appropriate and relevant language such as "easing the burden of cancer with a goal of eliminating death and suffering." This was the new directive of the National Cancer Institute when it refocused it's original declarative, "to cure cancer" back in 2003. So, if the focus is now on prevention, early detection, better medical technology and quality of life (e.g. survivorship), where does "cure" fit into this?

It doesn't.

Is cancer the new HIV as HIV was the new diabetes? If so, how do we, as a society, reconcile that notion and reprogram our mindset from a 30 year "Manchurian Candidate"-style inculcation by the establishment that promised, as the old National Cancer Institute mission clearly stated, a "cure" for cancer?

"Cure" has unfortunately become nothing more than a catchy, exploited, arbitrary and abstract health marketing term that has lost all sense of meaning and purpose - and I am not alone in this sentiment. No one wants to lose hope but reality needs to settle in on what's going on in this country with cancer now considered by all measures of public policy to be a chronic condition and manageable disease.

Perhaps someday down the road a 'cure' may take the form of individualized genetic vaccines, which enable our bodies to manage cancer cells more effectively and prevent them from spreading rampant. But we're still going to get cancer. It just won't be nearly as life threatening or life altering as it is today.

Here's more food for thought - Cancer is a naturally occurring biological process that is as old as evolution itself. It is impossible to cure it or end it, just manage and control it. Not to mention the fact that we direct most of our energies treating cancer's symptoms and not the causes that induce the process by which it overwhelms our autoimmune systems and spreads. The wildfire-like rise of cancer incidence over the past 20 years has brought shame and disgrace to the Nixon administration's declared "War on Cancer" from the early 1970s. (How's that going anyway?)

More so, the continued defunding of the National Cancer Institute budget by the current administration is yet another perfunctory slap in the face to the more than 10,000,000 American cancer survivors (and their 30,000,000+ caregiver network) who should be rioting in the streets in unification to demand answers and action on the part of the 2008 presidential candidates. Where do they stand on the issue? Hillary? Obama? Are you going to publicly promise to replenish the depleted NCI budget for 2009?

Frankly, I'm willing to bet that if Jenna Bush got cervical cancer tomorrow, George W. and his unenlightened cadre of myopic cronies might reconsider what he has done to decimate our hope in the government's prioritization of this public health epidemic.

Yeah, I said it.

I am a survivor because I choose to be. I wear my experiences like a badge of honor. I am proud of what I have been through and hope to encourage others to stand up, embrace their survivorship and shout to the rooftops, "I Am Still Here." <br>
And when you're young, it's terribly isolating. If I have learned anything, it's that psychosocial support and access to those resources is as critical to survivorship as is access to quality care. It may suck, but at least you're not alone.

And one more thought. I hate when people refer to us as "victims." That's about as low as you can get. Seriously, what's wrong with you people?

Dear Media,
Never use that word again.
Love, Matt

As I mentioned before, cancer, at least for me, was not per se a death sentence. It was an actually nascent to a life sentence of vigilant self-advocacy in navigating the chronic (and hopefully) manageable diseases and health conditions that continue to befall me in the wake of my simply not dying from cancer 11 years ago.

Get with the program.

There are 10,000,000 of me living with, through and beyond cancer in the United States, 600,000 of who are still under 40 and have the rest of their lives to consider the impact of their survivorship long-term.

Think about what "cure" means to you and where you give of your time, talent and treasure. It's 2007. Has your charity gotten with the program?

Life is about choice.
Remission is not a cure.
Survivorship is all the rage.

I am still here.

You are still here.

This is why we fight.

This is life + cancer. No cure.

Thank you for your prayers.

Somone told me that getting 224 friends in under 3 days is something of a phenomenon. I admit I'm a little new to MySpace but I'm so thrilled that people are digging what we're up to and I certainly hope we're able to help young adults by providing them access to a social network of support resources that no one tells them about. Please help us spread the word. We're the only ones doing what we do.

Good things.

Matthew Zachary
11-year Young Adult Survivior
Founder, Executive Director
Steps For Living, Inc.
http://www.StepsForLiving.org

"Get Busy Living."

01/30/07 - The NY Times ran an explosive exposé on young adults with cancer called – surprisingly enough – "TooYoung For This: Facing Cancer Under 40!".

Not only did the name of the article pay homage to who we are and what we do, we got a really awesome blurb towards the end of the piece and they actually mentioned (and hyperlinked to) our website, ImTooYoungForThis.org!!

Check out the article - HERE (PDF)

Matthew

GET TO KNOW US! We're Looking to meet:

Other progressive, like-minded adolescents and young adults who:

• Get it. (Not cancer. Us. That is, unless you got cancer, too.)
  
• Think that what we're up to is pretty frieken cool.
  
• Are fans of the idea that being irreverent and disruptive to cancer is hip.
  
• Love our spamtastic kitsch factor (Cancer? I Don't Even Know Her!)
  
• Like the idea of supporting a different kind of young adult cancer advocacy group. (We're progressive and the only ones out there doing what we're doing.)
  
• Are perhaps tired of running, walking, racing, relaying, striding, sauntering, golfing, dancing, knitting and anything else "for the cure". (What does it mean, anyway?)
  
• Might be fed up with the old school cancer establishment, don't necessarily want to get involved with a giant cancer franchise and realize that by contributing to Steps For Living, their voice will be heard and they will actually see results.
  
• Other some such stuff and the like, more or less.