“You have to get your sister away as soon as possible. Here she will die. We can’t help her,” the doctor whispered in my brother Allan’s ear. I didn’t hear it myself; I had slipped into a coma. In a good way, because I don’t know if I could have handled the announcement. It was the summer of 2018 and I was 38 years old. We were in Cape Verde to celebrate Allan’s wedding, not to say goodbye for good. How could death suddenly come for me?
Trodessa got breast cancer and meningitis: ‘Give death a hand’ | Healthy
