When my oncologist reassured me “Your exam is normal,” I wasn’t convinced I was okay. Neither was he. Unwilling to wait and see whether my worrisome symptoms improved with time, he handed me a requisition for a scan.
All I could do was hope for good news, a response as reflexive as squinting in blinding light. It never occurred to me to question whether “good news” was the best thing to hope for.
In a 400-word essay published in PULSE, read about the hope that helps me—and others—through the uncertainty of evaluations. Click here for The Worst Good News.
Wendy in first remission (1991)
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