The outer trip to the oncologist’s office takes about fifteen minutes from my house. The inner journey, which has been going on for twenty-four years, continues. One can be in remission from leukemia, but there’s no knowing for how long. It can return, seemingly from one day to the next, with no warning except perhaps for unusual fatigue and weird sweating. I’ve learned to live with the uncertainty of remission by telling myself, “For the moment, all is well.”