Outside, dark and quiet with softly falling snow.It’s Christmas Eve.I see blasts on your bone marrow slide.I am waiting for the flow cytometer. You are waiting too, sweet child.Finally, data–B-lymphoblastic leukemia.Cancer and I will now ruin your holiday.I pick up the phone and tell your hematologist the news.

When you say you want to be a physician like me…

Being a physician-mother sometimes makes me feel inadequate at both jobs.