After this week (don’t ask), I feel the need to remind people again of the frailty of life and to live every day as if it is your last.


So, I have to go to my oncologist next month – our oncologist. I have to call and make the appointment. Of course, I am filled with dread.

You see, it was something we did together – this cancer thing. We were diagnosed a year apart and every single viist we made to the oncologist was together. As if there is safety in numbers.

We had our little routine. She would pick me up, wearing pink or red (they made her feel “healthier”).  She would be sipping on a water (which she despised) because it made it easier for them to find a vein for her bloodwork. We would chat. About work, the kids, minor annoyances and things we were looking forward to. During the fifteen to twenty minute car ride, she told me no less than two or three times that “she hated” this shit and that the only…

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