6 years ago, when I learned that my dad had cancer, I was led to believe that it didn't matter. The doctors said it was a slow-moving tumor, and he would pass away from natural causes before the cancer ever became a serious threat to his life.
That was 6 years ago. Today, I move to Philadelphia to chase down the dream of being a writer. And my father sits at home, dying of a tumor in his abdomen.
It turns out that speed isn't everything. Direction counts for something as well.
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