Yesterday, I got evaluated for a recurrence -- a small bump on my chest wall. It is likely just a small scar around a stitch. I really, really don’t think I have cancer again.
So much healing, heisting life with soul sister and co-conspirator Michele Turner. The night before our road trip, Michele texted me a poem, Epitaph by Marrit Malloy... the po
the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.