By Mike Sarzo

Ten years in the life of a non-profit organization is a cause for celebration, especially since statistics show that many don't last five years. Such was the case Friday night in Jessup when the Ulman Cancer Fund for Young Adults held its 10th anniversary dinner at a warehouse.

The organization was founded when collegiate soccer standout Doug Ulman was diagnosed with chondrosarcoma, a rare bone cancer, then later suffered two bouts with malignant melanoma. Shortly after Ulman's diagnosis, Lance Armstrong sent him an e-mail to get in touch with him and offer his support.

As a recently minted cancer survivor myself, I was more than willing to fork over the $125 it cost for my dinner ticket and brave the steady downpour and nightmarish I-95 traffic to go to the event. It wasn't about meeting luminaries such as Armstrong and Gov. Martin O'Malley or Howard County Executive Ken Ulman, Doug's older brother. It was about something much more basic.

People who are diagnosed with cancer often feel isolated, alone and scared. I certainly felt all those things.

When Doug Ulman was diagnosed, many of the resources we now take for granted weren't available. Back when Armstrong was diagnosed, the Internet wasn't nearly as widespread. In his speech, Armstrong talked about going to the library to find information about cancer.

Even in an age where Web sites such as WebMD abound with instant information about illnesses and online support groups exist with other people having similar stories, you still face uncertainty.

In that regard, I was much more fortunate. As I was facing the uncertainty of whether or not I had cancer, doctors reminded me about Lance Armstrong. I remembered Doug Ulman. All of a sudden, I wasn't quite as alone. I also was lucky in that my version of cancer was described as the most treatable. The cancer also didn't spread beyond the surgical site.

Those thoughts came back to mind when I was sitting at a table in the back of the warehouse, looking up at a video projection screen with images of the platform speakers. One of the highlights of the night was talking with people at my table, some of whom were also cancer survivors. When I told the group I was a cancer survivor, they started talking about "class of '89" or "class of '87." The implication to me was clear. People who genuinely survive cancer and have a great attitude about it will have the attitude that they have cancer, but it doesn't have them.

I've seen and answered many MySpace surveys since I signed up for the online social networking service. Several of them have a question that has a slight variation on: "What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?" As far as I remember, I never put down having cancer.

As much as the 10th anniversary of the Ulman Fund was a cause for celebration, the night included reminders that the fight has only begun. Some statistics about cancer in children versus cancer in older adults indicated that both populations are doing better about surviving cancer. However, the survival rate for young adults facing cancer actually decreased.

Obviously, there's still much work to be done before the stigma attached to certain forms of cancer can be erased. But like every other battle, the people fighting it have to win it one step at a time.