I lay on the narrow table, left arm bent over my head, hospital gown open to expose my left side. The biopsy was over. The doctor hadn't said a word, counting on the nurses to relay the details of the procedure. He spoke now, but not to me. "Rush these samples to the lab," he directed the taller nurse, as he turned abruptly and walked out. "Shoot. That doesn't sound good," I tried to joke. The room was quiet. No one looked me in the eye. My family doctor would impart the diagnosis later. But I knew now. Breast cancer.
Paula MacDonald pursues her passion for writing in Oakville, Ontario. Cancer has a way of putting life in perspective.