If disease had a flavor, it would be peanut butter and jelly.
While I was still in grade school, my mother was diagnosed with
late-stage breast cancer. I learned how to spell words such as
estrogen, radiation and mastectomy. I learned that a breast was a
circle with no beginning and no end. And from this experience, I
painted the universe. Otherwise, the acknowledgement that my mother
received a prognosis of only a few months to live seemed impossible.