Elizabeth Grace Roland prayed every night to wake up with cancer. Just as her husband Hugh found a steady rhythm with his snores, she would turn onto her side, tuck her arm under the pillow and whisper please, please, please. She was specific with her cancer. She wanted breast cancer like her best friend Hilary fought last May. It was feminine and almost sexy. Everyone wore pink ribbons, Hilary’s name on their lips.Continue reading… "Rattling the Cage"