it is the day before dad's birthday, my last day to smoke, and mom is having a mammogram. suspicious, but likely nothing. it was quiet during lunch. a lump, there would be more tests before anyone left. breast cancer. it would be removed, the day is a blur, and i cry driving home. i quit smoking the next day, dad's birthday.
a visit with the surgeon. a blow to the stomach, life swings a bat and sometimes it hits you. the back pain is tumors. it won't be removed. breast cancer. stage IV.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment