I struggled to keep my expression neutral as I stared at her breast in disbelief. Peau d’orange the picturesque name, the red skin tense, dimpled by cancer.
“Let’s get a surgical consult,” I said, my voice light. “Today.”
Ten years later, she brought me a bottle of fine red wine to toast the joy of her survival.
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1 comment:
Greater than hearing the baby's first heart beat... of parents who had already miscarried twice.
Congrats on a joyous day!
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