I found the article (see link below) in the archives of Medical Economics Magazine. I thought it was was very well written and really gets to your emotions.

May 1997 marked an unforgettable anniversary for my family: Five years had passed since our oldest son, Robb, was diagnosed with a highly malignant sarcoma.

Commemorating that milestone, my wife, Kay, revisited Har Zion synagogue and silently repeated an age-old plea to God that she’d been raising for five years: “Mir fur dir. (Me for you.) Take my life, but spare his.”

Ever since Robb’s diagnosis, we’d lived in constant fear that his three surgeries and six weeks of radiation hadn’t rid him of the cancer. Our emotions rose and fell with each CT and MRI. After every negative report, Kay returned to Har Zion to repeat her pledge. She always brought a cash donation, a token of appreciation to thank God for his benevolence.

Now that Robb had survived for five years cancer-free, he could finally be considered “cured.” Other things were going smoothly as well—too smoothly, for us. My practice had been acquired by a major hospital network, my work schedule was reasonable, we had ample time for travel, and above all, Kay and I were both feeling well.

Then, in October, Kay began to experience headaches and neck pain. Her previously diagnosed herniated cervical disk could account for the neck pain, I figured, but she’d never complained of headaches before. When a small, hard lump appeared on the left side of her head a week later, I told her she needed a CT scan.

The next day, Kay went to the hospital for the scan. I waited two hours for the radiologist to read the films, then anxiously called the X-ray reading room.

“Dr. Fox, your wife has a growth in her skull. It doesn’t look like it involves her brain. Hopefully it’s a benign tumor. Sorry to have to give you this news.”

To read the article in full: “Take my life, but spare my son’s” – Medical Economics

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