I’ll organize my cancer.

That’s the first thought that came to mind when Dr. McGillivray started talking about my treatments. As she spoke, my well-developed left brain itemized all the tasks that had to be completed over the next ten months. And of course, everything had to be done perfectly and by me. That’s how I had survived during the first fifty years of my life. Or more precisely, the first forty-nine years, seven months and seven days.

Continue reading on Sandra Dawes’ blog.