As 1999 draws to a close, we revisit several of the people we met along the way. Six nurses threw confetti and applauded when I finished my last chemotherapy. I was relieved to be getting on with my life, even prouder to know I had one. My wife, Kathy, a pillar of strength and inspiration throughout our crawl through hell, cried on the way home. In the few months since, my hair has returned, grayer than before, but just as kinky.
Hugs mean more than they used to.
I'm still 30 pounds shy, but honestly, it wasn't like I couldn't afford the loss. But in quiet moments, I still wonder. I figure I'll probably always wonder. I went into an irrational rage that settled into a lingering depression. Then, just as people were stringing Christmas lights, I attended the funeral for an old criminal defense attorney friend whom I had particularly admired.