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So it's been a slow process and it's taken some patience. That's why patients are called patients I think - patience is required.

I tell residents, if you gave me two patients with identical problems, and one of them had family at the bedside with a lot of laughter, plus photos and a quilt from home, and next door was another patient who was alone every time I came by - I'm going to be very nervous about the isolated patient's mental status.

They had me on the operating table all day. They looked into my stomach, my gall bladder, they examined everything inside of me. Know what they decided? I need glasses.

My captors were definitely aware that what they were doing was wrong. It came out in small ways - occasionally through a show of guilt or compassion. One of the boys bought me a gift. Another used to sneak me acetaminophen tablets.

An extraordinary affair. I gave them their orders and they wanted to stay and discuss them.

They wanted to try this outpatient chemo, and I said no problem. I was adamant. I didn't want to miss any games. It's where I'm supposed to be, and I wanted to be there.

And I really also wanted to have the full-body scans to learn if it was anywhere else - and it wasn't - before I told them. So I didn't tell them, until for a week, and then I told them.

They were very considerate, I must say. Every time I felt I was about to slip out of these fingers and would yell for help, they'd let me down and re-organize things.

I was a big troublemaker in the group. I put them through a lot of pain, but as much as I gave to them, they gave right back to me.

The nurses were all angels in my eyes.