Anyone Got a Good Name for the Season of Cancer?

I'm supposed to be packing for a business trip right now, but I hate packing -- even for fun trips. But packing for four days of seminars and networking, as useful as they may be, that I'll be putting off until the very last second (which was probably an hour or so ago). 

In any case, somewhere in all my procrastinating I realized that this is the trip that starts the countdown to my cancerversary. Last year the conference I'm attending was in Chicago, so I drove the Roadster there so Sib2 and I could take Route 66 back. And though I didn't know it at the time, it was on the trip to Chicago the symptoms that would reveal the cancer shifted into overdrive. 

So the next five weeks are the preliminaries leading up to my cancerversary on June 10 (which is when Group Health scanned me and found the tumor). I'm tempted to call this period "Lent" or "Ramadan," but those names are taken. So what do you call the five week period that, in retrospect, was the beginning of the end of your life?*

Aside, of course, from "depressing." 

I suppose, given the calendar, I could just call it "May."** Or how about "May(be) I'll Live for Another Year Since I Made It Through This One?" That's cheery. Well, sort of cheery. Though it doesn't quite roll off the tongue the way Ramadan does. 

I'll have to keep working on it. 


* Sorry to be melodramatic, but if you can't be melodramatic during the unnamed five week period marking the anniversary of your cancer diagnosis, when can you be melodramatic?
** May's sort of been ruined already. When I was a kid "Mayday" meant flowers, as Mum made Sib4 and I deliver flower baskets to our neighbors. Now it means lockdown, as Seattle prepares for the inevitable protests.