Ten months. Long enough to have a baby. Long enough to lose several friends to cancer. Not long enough to figure out if I have a recurrence. Ten months ago I complained to my radiation oncologist about severe pain I've been having in the same quadrant of my body where a team of crack scientists poisoned, cut and burned the cancer in me two years ago. An MRI was ordered, but due to the shortage of MR machines in the province the scan was not until six weeks later. In the interim other odd symptoms started popping up.
What your mother never taught you about having cancer.
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