Do Any Anime Series Explore The Theme Of Tumor?

I found a cure for a rare brain tumor a year ago, but in my own home, I am still just the embarrassment who wears rags instead of silk. While my mother and stepsister obsess over guest lists and social standing, I spend my nights in a quiet lab, trying to save lives. I thought my future was set: more research, more bullying from my family, and eventually, a forced marriage. But Lyon came along. His mother is dying of the same tumor I had found a cure for, and he wouldn't leave my lab until I go with him. He is an Alpha shifter, a man with money and power that makes my family look like amateurs, and he didn't care about my protests before he carried me away. “Name your price, Doctor Christie Graves. I can give you anything you want as long as you save my mother.” But it's not ANYTHING I want. I want every inch of him. I want to know what making love would feel like. And with a man like Lyon. I should be ashamed of that. My job is supposed to be my only pleasure. Yet, when he tells me that there's a bond between us and that he can't let me go, I'm ready to go on my knees and ask him to make love to me.

I'm diagnosed with late-stage cancer after undergoing a pre-employment medical checkup. My husband says the medication for my condition is expensive. He also says it can only relieve my pain, not treat the cause. I only have a year to live. Upon my husband's pleading, I agree to do an IVF. I endure the pain and put myself through torture to leave him with a child. However, I overhear him saying the child growing inside me isn't mine—it's his and his lover's. He's the one who wants me dead!

After my rebirth, I signed a whole body donation consent letter. In my previous life, my boyfriend's junior was a self-proclaimed miracle worker who claimed she could cure any illness—even late-stage cancer. Every time that woman worked her magic, the same disease that she'd cured would reflect on my body. Overnight, I was diagnosed with over 300 types of diseases, and the bones in my legs were shattered. Just when I was going to talk to my boyfriend, he stormed in holding a checkup report. "You're unbelievable, Cynthia! You had AIDS and didn't tell me? Who was it? God, I can't believe I actually pitied you. You deserve every disease you have." … Yvonne took my place as a healer respected by the world of medicine. I languished and died under excruciating pain and the public's insults. Moments before my demise, her smug cackle reached my ears. "Your life for hundreds. You should be grateful I gave you this chance." Then, my eyes snapped open. And this time, I finally understood how she had done it.

During the three years after I'm diagnosed with a malignant tumor, my husband performs over 30 major surgeries on me so he can keep me around to donate my corneas to his true love. Finally, when she has the courage to face her illness under his encouragement, he follows a doctor's advise and gives up on treating me. I laugh when taking my last breath. He has no idea that the cancer has already spread to my eyes. He won't be transplanting my corneas in his true love's eyes—he'll be planting cancer in her.

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker in the hopes that he would collect my body. That way, I could die and be buried. I would like to finally be at peace, even if it meant that I could only achieve it after death. I packed up my bags and left home in search of a place to die, only to receive a message from my undertaker. [Sorry, something came up. I can’t come now.] …Excuse me? I’m already half-dead, and you’re blowing me off?

My older sister, Lucy Wheeler, is an extremely sensitive person. She'll burst into tears immediately if her doll is dirty or if a cream puff bursts in advance. In order to maintain peace in the household, my parents will fulfill any of Lucy's wishes endlessly. Since she doesn't like me at all, my parents don't hesitate to kick me back to my grandparents' home in the countryside. Later on, Grandpa and Grandma pass away one after the other, leaving me with no choice but to go home to my parents and Lucy. That's when everyone sets up 3672 house rules for me to follow. Since Lucy loves blueberries, I'm not allowed to touch any of them. Since Lucy loves dresses, I'm not allowed to look prettier than her. After undergoing 20 years of torment, I end up contracting breast cancer, resulting in my tragic death. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the first day I've gotten home after my grandparents' passing. Lucy is extremely sensitive, right? Well then, I'd like to see which one's the more superior weapon—her tears or my fists!