From the September 1994 magazine.

One Foot in Front of the Other

In 1986, I looked into the expressionless eyes of a doctor and heard him tell me I had breast cancer and needed an operation immediately. Three weeks later, I sat on the edge of the hospital bed and felt like I was clamped in the jaws of an angry tiger and it was throwing me from side to side like I was a rag doll.

What happened? Why did I feel so bad? What had I done? I had blatantly abused the drugs the doctor prescribed for use after the operation. I thought I could "get away with it." I thought I was going to have a "free ride," given the traumatic nature of the surgery.

-- Kay P.

Beaumont, Texas

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