When I was diagnosed with cancer, my mother said to me, “Why you, Susan?” I remember replying, “Why not me? Would it be better if it were someone else’s daughter?
A diagnosis. Stage 4 cancer. Anger and fear and hurt descend. Then the questions arise. Why me? And after I die? Is there a God? A heaven? A hell? A nothingness? Something else? How can I know? Good, bottom line, questions. Indiscreet, tactless queries all mortals need to ask. -SP
Many of the people who came in, both young and old, never left. In some rooms the stench of death hovered with gruesome anticipation over the frames that still breathed: sturdy bodies grown frail, once healthy complexions now pale and sallow. I watched families leave weighted down by grief over the loss of their loved…