An owl is roaming a bright sunny sky over Kusatsu General Hospital, and I, counting the hours until the moment of truth. Do I really want to live? What a question! Will I live? Is the question.
I’m waiting for a doctor to tell me “you are going to live for many many years” but no doctor would say it, not even my Japanese hero. I’m seeing him today. He will say the rebellious cells have gone into the left lung. The scan divulged their new positions yesterday. Japan oh Japan! I came to you too late.

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