Benjamin Rubenstein

Deuces. 22 years ago today, I finished treatment for Ewing's sarcoma, a bone cancer. Now, my shirts have milk dribbles courtesy of the deuce-dropping creature created from the genetic material I left for a deep freeze before starting treatment. And I even work at the same place where I was treated. It's funny how things work out sometimes, how your life can look like the number 22: the same elements can show up again, just with different values.

Today, I sat on my apartment building's roof near the flower garden and thought about dirt. Some country singer instructs us to buy it, some parents tell their kids to play in it, and I'm confident one childhood buddy ate it. But 20 years ago, I wasn't allowed to be anywhere near dirt. My immune system no longer functioned. It had been blitzed in order for me to receive an umbilical cord stem cell transplant on April 24, 2003. The docs said if I neared dirt then I could breathe in its microbes, which could then harm me, so I kept my distance from plants, construction zones, and operating vacuum cleaners.

I no longer need to keep a distance from dirt. I don't really think about dirt any longer, except when I hear that country song telling me to buy some. However, I thought about it today as I considered how drastic a difference life can be from one moment to the next. Things can get better, and often do. Thanks to the umbilical cord stem cells that were transplanted into me 20 years ago and became my immune system, I went from being able to die from breathing air to living my current charmed life. S**t, I may even eat an apple later without scrubbing it first. Look at me go.

Happy 20th birthday to Bone Marrow, who is now T minus one year from the legal drinking age. As if she weren't already sneaking in a few brewdogs since toddlerhood.