(Warning: graphic language ahead.)
I am so mad, and so sad, tonight.
I learned this week that a friend and another friend’s brother are facing terminal cancer diagnoses. For both, it’s their second go-round with cancer. They beat it back, and it came back again anyway.
Obviously, my emotions around cancer are heightened right now. You might think that my natural response to hearing this news would be to worry, facing my second battle, too. But right now, that isn’t what I’m feeling.
I’m pissed, and I’m crushed.
It’s too early for both of these men. My friend’s brother has a loving, and beloved, family. He has two little kids. And my friend has so many friends and students–often one and the same–who need him. Hell, journalism and the next generation of writers need him. He taught me not to use a question in my lede, that adjectives and adverbs should be used sparingly, that you can in fact find Sox fans in upstate New York.
I wish I could say I’m sending positive vibes to them in their battles, as so many of you have done for me. (And yes, for the record, I believe in that stuff, so keep ’em coming.) Tomorrow, I’m sure I will, with as much might as I can muster.
But for now, I’m sending the universe an angry message. Cancer–YOU SUCK. Just go away, and never come back. I’m not asking nicely.
I am so fucking tired of this disease.