A sort of apprehension sets in as the last bag of fluid empties. Change is coming. How soon can we get out of here? It's been too long a day.

We watch as other patients are unhooked and begin leaving. Corinne is tired. She knows that for the next week or ten days, she will feel the aftermath of the chemo. She knows that she might have some good days in a row just before the next session in three weeks. She also knows that the powerful chemotherapy might also plunge her white or red blood counts into the danger zone, necessitating daily shots, more exhaustion, bone pain and a level of quarantine from people.

In many ways, I wish I could trade places with her. I wish I could take away her pain and terror. But I can't.