Miracle

Now Is Not The End

Stage three breast cancer. She had felt the lump a month ago. Her husband told her to go see their doctor in the morning. But she brushed it off, thinking it was just her imagination. Then the lump grew. And grew. She finally went. She left in hysterics. Her delay had a high cost. Bleak prognosis. Fifty percent chance of survival. The doctor assured the best treatment. Months of chemo. Too many surgeries to count. A bandanna covered her now bald head. It was time for her check-up. She expected a death sentence. The doctor said two words.

In remission.