They file in, greet one another, and begin to survive another day. They are troopers, united by their fight and in the fight. Their spouses or friends come because they need help in getting there. Their medicine makes them die, just a little….Each day they die a little more, and when the treatments end, their will to live is that of the bravest on the fields of war. They wear kerchiefs, sit in wheelchairs, walk with a cane, or move in moble chairs. They are wonderous in their dedication to die a little to live. I bow, as a humble bystander, to their courage, their steadfastness, and their spirit.