The baseball-sized brain tumor that threatened David Bailey's life seven years ago could return at any time.

"The knowledge of that keeps me very alert," he says with a wry smile.

Bailey could be a poster boy for aggressive cancer therapy. He was diagnosed on July 4, 1996, and wasn't expected to live to the next Christmas. He has had two surgeries, four rounds of chemotherapy, a nuclear medicine trial treatment and radiation. His last treatment was in 1997. His MRIs show no sign of the tumor that has a reputation for returning "quickly and horrifically," he says.

At least as intriguing as Bailey's treatment history is how getting cancer changed his life.

He quit his fast-paced job and returned to his love of singing and writing songs after the diagnosis. He now has recorded seven CDs and has given more than 300 concerts. His story has been told on the TV shows "48 Hours" and "60 Minutes." He will speak and play songs to nurses this afternoon at a Cancer Update seminar at Southeast Missouri Hospital.

Bailey also sings for church groups and at folk music festivals, but his message comes down to the same thing, the title of one of his songs: "Love the Time."

Nobody is promised anything, he says. "The bottom line is, what are you going to do with that time."

Seven years ago, Bailey thought he had the American dream: A wife, two children and as the marketing director of a Boston software company he traveled the world. "My life was fast, busy, self-centered and improperly focused," he says.

Making a life

After the diagnosis, his faith and family became the most important things in his life. "Making a living didn't matter," he says. "Making a life did."

He slowed down, became gentler. His wife, Leslie, suggested he start playing the guitar he hadn't paid much attention to since college. He began writing songs.

"I made an album, and people bought it," he said, still sounding a bit amazed.

Bailey is a classically trained guitarist with a full baritone voice reminiscent of Cat Stevens. Now 36, he is working on his eighth album.

He didn't change one thing many cancer patients do: His diet. "I live on coffee, Pop Tarts and Pringles," he says.

After the first two Christmases of his survival, Bailey would put little notes for his children and wife among the ornaments as he put them away. "I didn't know if I would be there the next year," he said.

His message when he speaks to medical caregivers is a combination of gratitude and advice not to discourage patients with statistics. Telling someone there is a one in 500 chance of survival is crushing, he said. Instead, he hopes cancer patients are told about the people who have beaten the odds.

He contacted a man named Matthew who had lived nine years after learning of his own brain tumor. Matthew has lived 15 years now since the diagnosis and has become one of Bailey's best friends.

At the top of Bailey's Web site, www.davidmbailey.com, it reads "singer/songwriter/survivor."

Like most people who get cancer, Bailey asked himself why. He had an imaginary conversation with God in which he got an answer. But he realized that why isn't really the question.

"The right question is, 'What now?'" he said.

sblackwell@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 182