I was caught by a wave while swimming at night with friends in Southampton. That shook me.

Right after 9/11, Kenny and I went to perform for the troops in Pakistan and Uzbekistan. As we were flying in, an electronic voice went off: “Warning: missile launch! Warning: missile launch!” The Taliban had fired a rocket at us. I was waiting to see the back of the plane blow up, but it didn’t and we landed.

A horse-riding accident when I was about 15.

When I rode on the back of a motorbike from London to Rome with my eyes closed the entire way.

When Jeff Zaslow's column appeared in the Wall Street Journal (WSJ), about a dozen publishers emailed me, asked if I would be willing to write a book based on it. (I found this laughable, since at the time the palliative chemo was not yet working, and I thought I was down to about 6 weeks of good health). When the palliative chemo started working and we had some breathing room, I mentioned this to Jai, and she told me she wanted to do it. She was, in fact, quite emphatic. We had always talked about my "writing the manual" for her and the kids in my remaining time, and Jai felt that if it were a "real" project, I might take it much more seriously.

Shortly after my terminal diagnosis, I knew that one of my biggest priorities was to create memories for my children. Chloe and Logan are both so young that it's likely they'll have no direct memories of me. Dylan is the oldest, and at 5 (turns 6 in December), his memories are likely to be fuzzy. Hence the engineering question: What would make for the sharpest, most visceral memory, esp. for a kid who loves animals? Answer: go for a Dolphin Swim!

I am flattered and embarassed by all the recent attention to my "Last Lecture." I am told that, including abridged versions, over six million people have viewed the lecture online. The lecture really was for my kids, but if others are finding value in it, that is wonderful. But rest assured; I'm hardly unique. Send your kids to Carnegie Mellon and the other professors here will teach them valuable life lessons long after I'm gone.

This is obviously not how I wanted things to turn out, but my wife and I have no regrets; we did everything I could to maximize my odds. And we want to thank everyone who has so graciously helped us. The really weird part of all this is that I'm not depressed. I'm not in denial (I assure you, I am fully aware of what is going to happen), nor am I whistling in the dark, but after having felt crappy and sick for 11 months, to finally be fully healthy again is so exhilarating that it's a wonderful emotional buoy. So I am going to enjoy each day very fully, and play hard with my kids until I can't.