By NIYAZ PIRANI
The Orange County Register
I was pacing back and forth on the same five-foot length of sidewalk. My friend was waiting for me inside a Mexican restaurant. My enchiladas were getting cold.
"They can't do anything?" I frantically asked.
"Nope," she said. The voice coming through the line was a mix of resignation, frustration, anger and sadness. "They're not giving me the transplant. They've taken me off the list."
She was crying. I never cry. But it didn't mean the truth hadn't hit me just as hard.
She had cancer. And it was going to kill us.
• • •
When you're little, you think your parents are invincible. For as long as I can remember my mom, Sharon Louise Rubio, was sick somehow. But she always beat it, and in my mind that equated to her having a big Superman "S" on her chest.