August 12, 2009

Only once has there been reason for me to worry. And I am, now, three years older than he was, the year I was born, the year they wouldn’t let him in the delivery room because he had an open incision from a successful surgery.

But, I watch for signs. He was healthy, too, but his softball stats that had slipped a little. He was just a little tired.

They tell me, now, they’ve learned I’m more likely only to have inherited his quick wit, not his cancer. Still, I cross my fingers. I take the test.

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