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GETTING ON THE BUS Part I of 2
The first night in a hotel room in Estoril, Portugal, my heart, flipping about in my chest, jolted me awake. Thump. Thump. Thump. Silence. Then a rush of horses’ hooves clopped on my ribs. Trying to ignore my heart’s gymnastics, I tried to go back to sleep but the Mariachi band playing under my ribs…
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WHEN CANCER IS NOT CANCER
I was standing in front of the light boxes hanging on the wall in the breast surgeon’s office staring at the mammogram films of my left breast. The surgeon pointed to lesions that resembled a galaxy of twinkling stars in my milk ducts. The Milky Way. A bad joke. “You’ll need a biopsy,” she said.…