A Dying Girl's Payback
Completed · Joy Brown
On my twentieth birthday, I walked out of Boston Medical Center with a piece of paper that might as well have been my death certificate. "Stage IV pancreatic cancer. Three to six months, maybe less." The doctor's words were still ringing in my head.
You know what it's like to come home with news that's going to destroy everything, holding onto some stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, your family ...
You know what it's like to come home with news that's going to destroy everything, holding onto some stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, your family ...


















































