Knowing I had three months to live, I decided to divorce him.

“You have blood cancer, leukemia. This is your diagnosis.”

The glaring, stark words on the paper were numbingly surreal.

I calmly took the diagnosis.

I heard my own voice ask, “How much time do I have?”

The doctor sighed.

“Six months at most.”

“Okay.”

Without another word, I immediately stood up to leave.

That’s how it is when your heart dies. You lose all will to fight.

The doctor quickly called out to me.

“Ms. Hamilton, don’t give up. There’s still a chance if you find a matching bone marrow donor.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t know a bone marrow transplant could save my life.