You’re bludgeoned with (arguably) the scariest diagnosis you’ll ever receive. Parts of your body are chopped off, dissected, catalogued, banked. You’re tethered, drips saturating what remains with killer chemicals. You lie bare, pinpointed radiation beams burning tender fresh scars.
Finally to hear: “If you die of something else, this worked.”
Susan Heisner, aka the wyowordslinger, writes for fun and connection.
