Living with Oligodendroglioma
Dear Friends,
Every year, people ask me why we keep doing this race. The easy answer is because I have brain cancer. The real answer is because I know I'm not the only one. My story is simply the one I happen to know best.
Every survivor has a story that begins with a phone call, a scan, or a sentence that changes everything. Every caregiver has a story of loving someone through uncertainty. Every family learns to celebrate ordinary days in extraordinary ways. Mine began five weeks after the birth of my daughter, Maeve, when I had three grand mal seizures in one night and was diagnosed with an oligodendroglioma, a rare brain cancer.
In the years since, I've undergone brain surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, rehabilitation, and countless MRI scans. Today, I'm grateful to say my scans are stable. But "stable" doesn't mean finished. It means living between scans. It means learning that joy and uncertainty can exist together. It means choosing hope, even when the future feels impossible to predict.
One of the greatest gifts I received after my diagnosis wasn't just exceptional medical care. It was community. People who answered questions before I even knew what to ask. People who made me laugh when I needed it most. People who understood that life after a brain cancer diagnosis isn't just about surviving—it's about learning how to truly live.
This community changed me. It also inspired my family and friends to create the New Jersey Fast Track to a Cure 5K. Over the years, this day has become so much more than a fundraiser. It's a reunion. It's a celebration of resilience. It's a reminder that no one should have to face this disease alone.
Some of my favorite moments aren't crossing the finish line. They're watching two survivors meet for the first time. Seeing a newly diagnosed family realize there's an entire community ready to walk beside them. Hearing laughter echo across a day that exists because of something so unimaginably difficult. Those moments remind me that while research changes lives tomorrow, community changes lives today.
Every person who registers, volunteers, donates, sponsors, or simply shows up becomes part of that story. Together, we're funding research that brings us closer to better treatments and, one day, a cure. But we're also changing something less measurable and just as important.
We're changing the emotional forecast for families facing this disease. We're replacing isolation with connection. Fear with action. Uncertainty with hope.
I don't want to simply survive the storm.
I want to change the forecast.
I hope you'll join us.
With gratitude,
Mo
Maureen O'Donnell
