She told me she had thought it was stress at first. Then an inflamed gland. Then something she could postpone addressing until after Sonia’s school performance, until after my job interviews, until after one more week when life seemed slightly less crowded. But the lump did not go away. Her fatigue worsened. Bruises began appearing on her arms in places that made no sense, and she had been covering them with the long sleeves I had converted into evidence.
She had gone to her doctor alone because she did not want to worry me before she knew anything definite. The blood work came back wrong. The biopsy came back worse.
Lymphoma, she said. Aggressive. But treatable.
