He was on the short and stocky side, blond hair and short cropped blond beard. He wore sunglasses, a thick, stylized wooden cross around his neck, tan shorts and a black shirt.
Beating the Beast is written by a ten-year cancer survivor who’s learned sometimes you need to hold a hand, sometimes you need to kick some ass.
Hospitals are places where great efforts are made to save lives. They can be almost magical places. Sometimes, the magic just isn’t there. I have great respect for doctors.
Like the best selling children’s book states, everybody poops. It’s really an amazing process, if you think about it. You can ingest just about any food (and many non-foods, I suppose), your body will take out of it what’s needed, and get rid of the rest.
The inside of the circular opening of a CT machine. It obviously wasn’t new, a little grimy and stained. There was a familiar red light coming from the laser. I knew I shouldn’t look at it, so I closed my eyes. I had been asked if I’d had a CT scan before. I said I’d lost count.
Nine years ago, I was in a very dark place. The only thing keeping me going was the light at the end of the tunnel. At the time, I didn’t know if the light was real or a mirage.