Immersed in wedding plans, and then cancer

It started innocently with a pair of Christian Dior sunglasses in the window of a Madison Avenue boutique. They were ideal for my vacation, so I ran in, put them on and glanced in the mirror. Sexy yet subtle. I pulled out my credit card.

Two weeks later, my fiancé, Peter, and I lazed on a North Carolina beach. Everything was wonderful, except the Diors didn’t fit; my eyelashes kept hitting the right lens. Otherwise, the trip was fabulous, especially at night, when I didn’t need the glasses. On our last day, I stuffed the specs into my bag, trying not to think about the money I’d wasted. On the drive back, my right eye began to itch. I rubbed it through Maryland, Delaware and New Jersey, all the way home to Manhattan.

Soon after, I saw my ophthalmologist. He took one look and called in his assistant, which I knew couldn’t be good. They stood close together and spoke in hushed tones.


Source: msnbc.msn.com