During the wedding, my mother-in-law came to me and ripped off my wig, showing all the guests my bald head
For a long time, my life was measured in hospital corridors and waiting rooms. Before wedding plans, before dresses and guest lists, before flowers and vows, there were IV drips, test results, and long nights staring at ceilings that smelled faintly of disinfectant. Cancer doesn’t arrive gently. It takes space. It takes strength. And sometimes,…