My daughter’s cancer was shrinking. For a brief moment, hope soared like a kite in a strong gust of wind. God was answering prayer. Then, strangely, without warning, I immediately burst into tears. Burying my face in my husband Greg’s shoulder I sobbed, “Why does my hope hurt? I’m afraid; dare I believe my girl will live?”
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“Call a nurse!” My daughter’s words interrupted our laughter. Up until that moment the four of us--Greg and I, plus April’s husband, Rick, had been picnicking in the oncology’s chemo room while April received her eighth dose of cancer-fighting drugs.
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Carol
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