When I was in the midst of breast cancer treatment, a envisioned a day like today when I could say that I felt perfectly healthy and strong. I thought once I got through the battle, my life would finally be perfect. But of course it never is. Last fall, I watched Joe fight valiantly for sobriety. Now he's six months sober and acts like a different person--but in a good way.
But now I have my brother to worry about. His leg that they radiated on for sarcoma cancer has given him his eighth infection. He's had a fever for two weeks and his toe has turned black. Apparently, the knee replacement he had last December has done little to keep the blood flowing all the way down his leg. The vascular veins have shriveled up due to the cumulative effects of radiation. I'm taking him to Mass General in Boston next week, but I fear the worst, that his leg will have to be amputated.
There's nothing I can do but be supportive, and help make his life more comfortable. So you see, the diagnosis of cancer sometimes comes back to bite you in unpredictable ways.
I can already see that my mother will adopt to being a widow perfectly. She wasted no time clearing my father's clothes out of the closet and donated all of it to The Cancer Research Fund. She's on her way. It's just my brother I worry about. He's extremely depressed. Please pray for him.
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