I feel a bit like the boy in the story crying "Wolf." I have been crying "cancer" for much longer than I expected (and I suspect longer than most of you expected.) When I got the prognosis that said "Five percent make it to five years" I didn't think I would make it. Those odds didn't look good to me and I prepared myself. I got my affairs in order; I prepared a client transition plan; and I bade farewell to doing first aid. All this in the face of my brother telling me to go buy a cruise ticket for five years out. I didn't do it.