Imperfect Metaphors: Why I 'Beat Cancer,' But Don't Feel Like I Won Anything

December 30, 2014 6:54 PM

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I opened the orange medicine bottle one last time, taking out two familiar chalky white pills. Although I never did, apparently I was "supposed" to wear latex gloves when handling these chemotherapy pills. Because heaven forbid the residual dust of those highly toxic substances get onto my skin before I swallowed and ingested it anyway.

I held the two pills in my hands for a minute, looking over them with a strange mix of resentment and reverence. Isn't it strange to think these two pills, along with a whole slew of liquid chemotherapies, were the main staples that held my life in the balance between life and death for the past two...

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