My surgeon came by late afternoon on day four…
Smile on her face… informing me that I did indeed have cancer, but that it was only stage one, with no apparent spread to the neighboring lymph nodes.
I remember her exact words: “You’re cured, bud.”
I wept right in front of her.
Four months of anxiety, nausea, insomnia, and terror poured out of me uncontrollably.
I wish I could say that they were all tears of joy, but this was no celebration. It was more like the utter collapse of someone who had just gotten a last second reprieve on the gallows.