Cancer, you’re an asshole.
Another taken. Too young, so loved–a zillion friends, her husband, three children and an extended family left grieving. A punch in the heart to the entire community.
Goddamn, it’s hard. So hard. But no one said this would be easy.
Given some of the responses to yesterday’s blog, I wish to clarify. If I decide to drop out of a trial, it is simply a change in strategy. I know some of you don’t like battle metaphors, but this is war. However, take the word losing out of the equation. Not loss, the personal and collective loss remains huge. And never ending. But no one loses their individual battle with cancer.
It’s more like a draw. When we die, so do any malignant cells. In the meantime, we fight. For ourselves, but also each other.
And we get sad. At times incredibly weary. Angry–always. Those who have passed are carried forward in our hearts. As a comfort. But also a hurt.
Life is beautiful, but it can confound. Hurt and anger? They compel. Those of us who can, will.