These days, what strikes me as interesting about these periodic films is their utter routine-ness. A year ago, I’d have spent the time between the taking of the films and hearing my oncologist’s report worrying about the results. Now, I barely think about the issue. Not because I’m an optimist—I know well that, sometime soon, the news will likely be bad. The sensibility is a bit like living in a war zone, at least as I imagine that experience: You know the bombs will fall tonight, and you know that, while the odds are in your favor on any given night, if the bombing lasts long enough you’re likely to get hit. Nothing to be done about it, so you go about your business. Is this what it was like in London during the Blitz? I wonder.
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