Like countless first-year medical students, immersed in the symptoms of one disease after another, I am alert to the tingles and pangs, the throbs and quivers of my mortal body, each one of which is potentially a sign of the end.
It's a scary word, 'cancer.'
You can see people draw the past, present and future as well as dream about it. You go to bed at night and have a dream that says there's a lump in your right breast and the doctor who is foreign, with an accent tells you it's cancer.
I hate knowing about illness. Whenever I read a medical book, I immediately start to get all the symptoms.
That's why I talk about the breast cancer: because I want women - and everyone - to stay on top of things and get checked. I know how scary it can be. When I dealt with it, I was like, 'Oh my God.' And I have so many other friends who have gone through it or have suffered a loss.
I have Googled so many things related to possible diseases, and it's always ridiculous. Like, 'My toe is hurting. Do I have cancer?' 'I have a scratch in my eye. Am I going to die soon?' 'Is eating a soup going to make me die?'
We are bombarded with reasons to stay inside: we're afraid of mosquitoes because of West Nile and grass because of pesticides and sun because of cancer and sunscreen because of vitamin-D deficiency.
