In August 2012, a phone call from Scotland told me that my sister had been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer. Six weeks later she was dead. In between was a blur of travel, family tensions, and—one bright spot—making my sister laugh one more time. But my sharpest memory of those weeks is the helplessness of sitting in a hospital office learning that estrogen receptor-negative breast cancer cells in my sister's body had metastasized to her bones, lungs, and brain. We could make her comfortable, the doctor said. That was it. (You can read more at Science.)
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