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I stare at a man that has become very familiar to me over the years, almost like a father through my blurry vision. I close my eyes, my body deflating, letting a tear slip free, concentrating on the feel of the wetness as it slides down my cheek and drop from my jaw to my lap. “I’m so sorry Sang.” Dr. Roberts says, placing his hand on mine. I open my eyes and look into his, hating already the pity I see within them. He swallows hard as if he’s having a hard time controlling his emotions to. “There are treatments-”

I shake my head cutting him of. “Not now. Later, but not now.” I can’t talk about this right now, I need to go home to my boys and sit them down.

“Do you want me to page Sean to take you home?”

I shake my head. “No. I brought my car. This can wait until I get home where I can sit them all down together.” I stand up from the seat I was sitting in and pick up my jacket and then slip it on. I need to confirm it once more. Turning to Dr. Roberts I ask, “Are you sure?”

He stands from his own chair, handing me some leaflets and an appointment card for Friday where we can sit down and discuss my options. “I’m sorry Sang. I have had all the tests ran several times to be sure and they’re all coming back the same. You have breast cancer.”

And there it is, that word everybody hates. 

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