June 22, Evening. I talk and cry with my family. We promise to be there for each other. Later, I pray about my two opposing images. For this I can only be present to what's given each moment.
All strategies gracefully disappear.
I am committed, neither to a noble death nor to a battle against cancer, neither to self-assertion nor to passivity, but to being as open and responsive to God as I can possibly be. All else will come from this. After endless tests at NIH, I begin a six-month course of chemotherapy. I have a venous line in my neck and am carrying around a pack that pumps drugs into my bloodstream. It hurts, and the drugs are already making me feel bad.