Señor Adria

The chemotherapy was the worst of it. How would I get through this? Some suggested visualization – to see myself on a serene isle, or bathe myself in healing rays of light. So I invented him – Señor Adria – and named for the crimson poison they injected into my arm. Señor Adria, my Latin lover. My protector and savior too, but a demon lover. He loved me almost to death. Our affair was no secret. He came to me five times and each time I opened myself up to him. Everybody knew. You could tell by looking at me that the red devil had gotten under my skin. He was in me, every part of me, every cell felt his presence. I am a marked woman now. With a big red letter “A” – for Adriamycin,

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