My Lynch Syndrome, Part 2

It’s a hell of a thing to pull up to a building that reads “Something Something Something CANCER Center”…

… and realizing that YOU are the reason why you’re there.

Surreal. Feeling totally detached from my body, yet somehow able to park the car safely, get out, move my legs, walk through the front door, talk to the smiling receptionist, and survive the fifteen-minute wait for my name to be called.

As I sat in the waiting area, a dozen or so cancer patients shuffle by or are wheeled past me—each in a hospital gown with IV in tow—some bandaged, bruised, and bald—faces as if all the life had been sucked out of them.

Is this what my future looks like?


My heart sank and bled for each and every one of them—especially for the ones who were way too young to be there.

continue… My Lynch Syndrome, Part 3

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