The "C" Word

You can run but you can’t hide. It seems no one is safe. You can eat broccoli, give up cigarettes, take your vitamins, avoid hanging out in front of microwaves, get regular mammograms…but none of it seems to matter. One way or another, it will hunt you down.

The "C" word.

The news came several weeks ago. Yet another loved one has been diagnosed with cancer. The tears came first, followed shortly by anger. More than anything else, I’m pissed off. Why her? Why now? WTF? you know?

I shouldn’t be shocked; I should know by now that cancer doesn’t discriminate. It plucks its victims from the masses with no regard for the number of people counting on them, depending on them, needing them. I know this, and yet, I fool myself into believing that it won’t go after one of my loved ones. Not again. Not now.

The ‘good news’ is that they caught it early. But when they remove the lump, they discover it's bigger than they thought. It has spread to one lymph node. The doctor says that the lump has tentacles. I have a vivid image of a tiny evil octopus swimming around Mrs. T’s body. This octopus has devilish red eyes and a sinister laugh. Even as I write these words, I suspect the evil-octopus is trying to spread his cancer-venom. I picture this tiny evil-octopus and I feel certain that he is no match for Mrs. T. She can kick his ass, I’m sure of it, but still, the doctor insists a full mastectomy is needed, followed by chemo and radiation. For this evil-octopus is a slippery little sucker, and ridding her body of him and his venom requires drastic measures.

So now she is scheduled for major surgery to remove the treacherous body part that has been harboring this foreign invader.

The protocol is to stay positive, and I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be angry too. And I am. I want to protest. I need to make signs and start a riot to express my discontent. But what good would that do?

So I smile and stay optimistic and tell my dear friend that her mother will be okay. I pray that the words I’ve said are true all the while wondering if my prayers will be heard. For surely if God can hear my pleas to save Mrs. T, he will. But there is a nagging voice in my head reminding me that he didn’t hear my prayers for Lynn. Or for Maggie. Or Susan. Or even my dad. It’s not fair, I know. It’s not right to blame God, and yet, I need to be angry at someone…at something. But more than anything, I need for Mrs. T to win this battle. I need her to come through it with flying colors. Not just because her family needs her – her husband, her granddaughters, her son, her daughter (not to mention her daughter’s friends!) – but because we desperately need a victory. I need her to win this battle to prove that the war against cancer has an end in sight. And that sometimes the good guys win.

This time for certain, the good guys will win.