TUESDAY, MAY 16

ROB SITS WITH ME in the waiting area. I’m happy that he’s with me again. I follow the hands of the clock, watch the drawn faces of the people around me, wiggle back and forth on the uncomfortable plastic seat, and look at Rob. He squeezes my shoulder and gives me a kiss on my cheek. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before I see Dr. L approaching. He’s smiling.

I sigh with relief. The thing is, the fear didn’t leave my body together with the cancer. Now, without chemo, its sort of probation time: Is it really gone or will my body be full of swimming cancer cells again in a few months time? I wonder when the day will come that I don’t worry about cancer anymore, but about something mundain as paying the rent.

“Miss van der Stap.” Outside his office I’m still a “Miss.” I get up, shake his hand, and will him to hold his smile. It works.

“Well, it all looks fine. Some minor changes from the last images, but in all probability those are effects from the radiation. How are you feeling?”

“Great. I feel great.”

*   *   *

I go straight from the good news to the bad news: Chantal.

“How did your scan go?”

“Good,” I say softly. It feels wrong to celebrate next to a head full of tumors. How do you tell someone who is dying that every day brings you closer to living again?

“Oh, good, I’m glad.” She smiles. “At least one of us is clean.”