ABSTRACT
I was confronted with an objective fact: I was ill. My illness had no treatment. ere was nothing for me to do but sit and watch. e possibility of being passive in the face of my own
devastation was unreal to me at fi rst. On hearing the news my fi rst question was: so what do I do? I remember the radiologist’s evasive answer: “I don’t know. I only diagnose, I don’t treat.” Did he know there was no treatment? Was he trying to get out of a sticky situation? I don’t know because I never saw him again and, despite being my father’s colleague for many years, he never asked after me.
