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| Friends on a Cancer Journey; A Mentor; Ovarian Cancer |
This time the parking garage did not trigger a racing heart,
or evoke panic, or churn up fear, or create a desire to run—like it had three
weeks ago. The chemo suite was not quite as frightening. And the word chemotherapy
came attached with prior experience. It was not so unknown. Feeling the elevator
surging up, Coco reflected about her CA 125 blood test. It had plummeted,
breathing hope into her troubled soul. It made all this seem doable.
Switching gears from wife and mother and friend to patient,
she made it over to her chemo bed for the day. She came alone. This day would
be a solo act. But that was ok; she was stronger now. Her wig was on. Her prayer
partners would be at work and her husband was coming later. It was all good.
