Pink Door House

Instead of my usual two hour drive east, I'm receiving chemo in the local hospital today. The one where I gave birth to Eli three years ago. In many ways, it all began in this building. The sounds from those memories are out of harmony with the IV drip. Memories of the first time I cried through breastfeeding my newborn son, just three floors above where I'm sitting through treatment. I often wonder whether the threads of his story will ever become untangled from those of my

"Is there a chance this could be Inflammatory Breast Cancer?" "Absolutely not." It was October. In the two months since Eli's birth, my midwife had been treating me for mastitis, a common breast feeding infection. Antibiotics, heat compresses, massage, pumping....nothing alleviated the pain, and in fact, it was getting worse. I requested to see an OB in the same clinic. The appointment was brief and frustrating. I was chastised for showing up engorged, even though I explaine