News — Cancer


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I’m at an age when funerals beckon way more frequently than weddings, so you’d think I’d have figured out the whole grieving thing by now. That’s the first thought that came to mind last week when I heard that my 73-year-old brother, affectionately known as The Tin Man (he once ran a siding company), had tumbled into the cancer vortex. A PET scan revealed tumors invading his scalp and shoulder, his liver and lymph nodes, his tibia and back. “We have called the Mayo,” his daughter wrote in a text replete with heart emojis and a call for prayers. I...

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