One day, my oncologist was in a talkative mood. He was raised Roman Catholic, but after 30 years in the lung cancer world, he knows that religion doesn't always help his patients.
"How are you doing?" he asked. "I mean, this has to be a big test of faith."
Now, 18 months after receiving a devastating diagnosis, my understanding of religion has been transformed.
How dare I have fun during chemotherapy? It's not that I look forward to seven hours of treatment. But with four of six rounds behind me, I no longer feel I'm heading into an abyss.