Fuck You, Cancer

Ah, $h!it . . . I reached a new hope that life would settle a bit. My new/old job and return to my music family and friends and then cancer strikes again . . .  I know, I know, it's not about me and I'm grateful I'm home this time to support my friend through the end of remission, and through her second round of Chemo, and on to the second remission.

But let's be honest, I struggle with knowing the if she dies, I am going to take it personally. HOW DARE God/Universe/ALLAH/and the like take another beautiful person with no regard for what the world needs. How dare it. There is no prayer that can soothe this anger. But it's my anger not her's, so once again I'll do my best to choose joy when she's around, but when she's not, I will seethe. I will curse. And I will weep.

Fuck you cancer. And fuck you industry, commercialism, and corporations that have successfully created an environment that enables, and yes, even causes this disease.

Not About Me

It's hard to think that it's not about me. Her cancer that is. My dear and best friend's cancer. It's her's. The road, the journey, the chemo, the fear, and the hope, and yet, it's hard not to focus on what I might lose, again. Another close, soul-mate kind of friend who gets the struggles and the joys that make me me is walking a path that serendipitously intersects with my own. The times we've walked together we've shared in big and small life revelations. I suppose it's no different than how it was before, only now the wonder of where her steps may take her is laced with fear. It's about her, supporting and staying positive, making phone calls, sending a meal, a card, a text, a hug, and avoiding the "you shoulds," the "whys," the "god's plan" and the like. It's about her, but it feels like it's about me. She's decided to "choose joy," and has asked me to do the same. I'll try. Though, I feel like defeat, not joy, has chosen me.