My wife and I sat in a tiny consulting room at the hospital with our oncologist. We call him “our” oncologist because we know we will be seeing a lot of him over the next few months and beyond.
In the confines of that room, we were handed a script for the next six months of our lives — a script we never wanted to read.
Chemotherapy starts in two weeks.
The oncologist described the process that my wife will go through.