On my first visit to the oncologist, I got the bad news: a very rare cancer. He was extremely aggressive. My only chance was for a year of clinical, experimental chemotherapy and weeks of radiation.
I was prepared for this news; but not the rest: There was only one place where I could be treated, and it would make it impossible for me to be with my daughter. As the words came out of my mouth, I looked at my baby I sucked in my lap and my tears started to flow.
It was only a few weeks since his first birthday. Yes, weaning was inevitable. Our unity had reached an untimely end. He wouldn't have prepared me nothing to take every minute of his second year of life.
The doctor continued. The side effects I have heard all the effects I know thanks to my father who has leukemia. I hated chemotherapy. It was poison. It was torture. But I had a daughter.
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