Abstract
In January 2000, I was diagnosed with cancer. This story tells of my relationships with the medical professionals who treated me. Like Arthur Frank, my goal was to receive the treatment I needed without sacrificing the humanity I valued. Being socialized by my father's self-destructive wolfish approach to authority, I struggle to overcome those tendencies with medical practitioners and to replace them with a more benign canine—the humor-laced, rule-violating, coyote/trickster of ancient mythology, a persona that challenges dehumanizing institutional structures but not always the people who uphold them. This then is a tale of my emerging trickster as I negotiate my treatment options as a cancer patient.
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