I looked up the word cancer on Dictionary.com. There were several definitions but the one that stuck out was this:
My uncle has cancer. Last December was the two year anniversary since he had been diagnosed. Last year they took his voice box. He has developed mad skills on the whiteboard. Today, the doctors did another procedure to remove a ping pong ball size lump from his throat surrounding his carotid artery. He had been in a lot of pain. Today, they got the tumor out. I spent several hours at the hospital with my dad and the rest of the family today. Waiting rooms suck. We came to the consensus that there should be beer sold in hospital waiting rooms. We also agree cancer is a bitch and needs to head on out. Now that I think about it, I don’t recall there being a sign saying you couldn’t bring your own beer. (Filing this tidbit in my brain for future waiting room stays.)
I hate seeing my grandma so worried about her son.
When we lost my grandpa from this same evil disease, I was a few hundred miles away and didn’t see Grandma much then. Now I see her a bit more (much to my own admission, not enough). Seeing her worry about one of her sons while he lay cut open on an operating room table is not cool. Not cool at all. We were all antsy. There was a lot of sighing. We also laughed a bit too. Especially a the dudes on TV who were skating down an ice covered coarse that looked a bit like a roller coaster.
Watching my dad navigate his way around a hospital cafeteria was a bit funny. It’s a good thing I was there to make sure he could find his way to the burgers.
It’s just not fair. It seems like every week, someone I know has a new diagnosis or more bad news with a current diagnosis.
And it’s definitely evil. Very very evil.