The fifth in a series about
local cancer survivors.
In 1995, we had promised our two daughters that we would move to Kentucky in 1997. I began to cough. Two to three rounds of antibiotics — no change.
Then came such a whirlwind of medical activity — enough to make one dizzy — X-rays with contrast, bone scans, biopsies, etc. Then we got the diagnosis: the BIG C, upper right lobe of this non-smoker’s lung.