I don’t know how to write about cancer, how to write about this most harrowing and universal human experience. It seems most people have a cancer story or more. Or a devastating illness story. Health is the exception, and it is precious, and if it gets taken for granted, it’s only because it is there to be taken for granted. If you can’t take it for granted, it isn’t there. (This last observation is my husband’s). So, if I tell you my story, I’m pretty sure it will sound a lot like yours. When your loved one falls ill, the aftermath is as sharp and absolute as a landscape altered by severe seismic activity. With cancer in particular, you never stop dreading the aftershocks. There are so many. After the therapies, the withering side effects. After the surgeries, the unforeseen complications. After the PET scans, the ongoing surveillance. Michael says this was all harder on me than on him. Nuh-huh. Not a chance. I didn’t get stabbed with nephrost...