Un Ange Passe

In 1995 she was given two years, but being so young and strong, her doctors could apply the most aggressive techniques; she was spared, it seemed. Cancer, however, is eminently adaptable, and despite bouts of optimistic remissions, it resurfaced again and again.

This past August, she was given an awful diagnosis: "months." She did not last even one. The remaining available treatments had such profound side effects--and so little efficacy--that the cancer, i.e., Death, became preferable. Foregoing further treatment, she entered a home hospice program last week, passing on the evening of September 29, her husband at her side, her sister upstairs brushing her teeth.

She was just a few days shy of her 39th birthday.

Her blog is factual, not emotional, but the facts about the oxygen tanks and the difficulty breathing or focusing or reading or sleeping are deeply painful, deeply lonely (but not, as far as I can tell, afraid).

Today marks the first day of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month; if you are here to read this, rejoice and be glad.

"And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils."