I did grieve a bit when I wasn't having the chemo anymore. I was used to sitting in the little chair and then the nurse would come and do it. It was like that was your job for that long and it was reassuring.
My father was a small-town banker. He became very ill when I was 10 years old, and we went to California three years later in an attempt to recover his health, which never happened.
Boy, you better pray that I bleed real soon.
I swear that I'm dying slowly but it's happening, and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere... just take me there.
Don't commit suicide, because you might change your mind two weeks later.
Belief is half of all healing. Belief in the cure, belief in the future that awaits.
Like the experience of warfare, the endurance of grave or terminal illness involves long periods of tedium and anxiety, punctuated by briefer interludes of stark terror and pain.
Growing up, cancer was one of those things that I heard other people talk about. The word scared me, but I always thought, 'Thank goodness I don't have to worry about that.' Then, in 1998, I lost my father to cancer.
I've had a couple of family members deal with cancer, and I remember that moment where they're going into surgery, and you just have no idea what's going to happen, and it's really scary.
If a person can turn from predicting illness to anticipating recovery, the foundation for cure is laid.
I do not want to die of this disease. So I say to God: "It is seriously time for a miracle."
