Does anyone else find it endlessly amusing when their dog farts? Wally's just sitting here on the couch, tooting away.

Where to begin? Have I mentioned how I have psychic-prescient dreams? Well I do. Or actually, prescient thoughts in general. For instance, last night—bear with me while I give you the (borderline insane) train of thought that led me to my latest encounter.

Last night I had on the original Taking of Pelham One Two Three, starring Walter Matthau. I was watching the credits and saw Hector Elizondo's name. Then I thought: "Wow, he's really had a long career and steady work as one of those actors who everyone recognizes but probably doesn't know his name." Which led me to think about how Bob Balaban is another one of those actors, and that Dr. Larry Norton resembles him, which had me conjuring up visions of Balaban playing Norton in a movie. Uh, yeah.

Tomorrow, June 16th—the one year anniv of my last chemo. Wow, that's a biggie. Thank fucking God I look better now, despite the fucking Jewfro. Anyway, cut to this a.m. I had The View on in the background while I was writing my column for Juli B. And—god forgive me—I hit the record button when they announced that Heidi and Spencer were on. But—ahhha there was a subconscious reason I recorded those douches! Next thing I know, I look up and my beloved Dr. Larry Norton is in the View hot seat.

Even though I knew he was B.I.G. I've never seen him on TV. Apparently he's a regular guest. And the coolest thing was that they were asking him about BC genetics and Republican Nazi EH asked him about inheriting the gene from the mother's side vs the father's. Well, last year when I consulted with Norton, he was the one to tell us that the gene quite clearly was on my father's side. And as he's sitting there on the View, I'm thinking: "Jesus, he's up there talking about a patient like me." I was half-ego-maniacally thinking that he was about to say: "For example, last year I had a 31-year-old patient whose BRCA1 gene was inherited from her father."

I know, sick. But, how weird that he's on today? It's like a big, cosmic, happy anniversary from the man who guided me on the path to health. Norton was the final factor in deciding to do the double mastectomy and chemo. I remember being in his office with Mom, Dad and Michael—the first visit where the whole family was there—and seeing my dad tear up a little. Mom was naturally bawling the whole time while Brother was giving me sacred gifts from India and such. And then I saw relief wash over the whole family when I agreed that I was going to go with Norton's treatment protocol and do the double mastectomy.

And, as you all know, once I talked to Norton, I never wavered in my decision. I worship this man for not only his intellect, but for his kindness, compassion, intelligence, humor, bedside manner and dedication to his job.

I was also thinking, as I watched the Anna Wintour of breast cancer—my nickname for him—that this man on that TV with Barbara Walters took almost two hours out of his day to meet with my family on a day when his elderly mom was in the hospital. He drove in from New Jersey just to meet with us that day. I'm no Barbara Walters, but this man changes lives wherever he is. Talking to the masses on The View or talking to the Greens on a cold NYC day in March 2008.

Sigh. I'm so lucky. So, so, sooo lucky and grateful for such a great network of friends and family and connectors. And Norton's the one who gave me Ralf's name and so on and so forth. The circle of life.