I’m not sure how useful it is to hate a genetic flaw – but I found out
recently that my mom has cancer. Earlier this year I found out that my
cousin Ben does too. It really leaves me breathless, and asking myself
those kind of silly “why” questions that I thought I got out of my system
in my 20’s.
You can follow the link above to learn more about Ben – suffice to say that
he is 32 years old and the absolute last person I’d expect to have any kind
of health problem. (Except perhaps a failing liver; he’s been known to
down a drink or two over the years.)
We are still figuring out, via a variety of scans and tests, exactly how bad my mom’s
cancer is; apparently the doctors are calling it a “stage 3-B”, which
sounds pretty bad considering the scale goes from 1 to 4. She seems healthy
to me (I just spent a week with the family in Harpers Ferry, WV), a little thin, but
still full of love and life. Honestly, I’m not quite sure how to deal
with these facts – which brings me back to hating cancer, I suppose.
Anyway, I’m planning to visit again in October, and we’ll see how things
go between now and then. (I suppose I should let my boss know about these new
vacation plans…) At least I don’t have to worry about her support
system; my mom has more close family and friends than you can shake a stick at, and
I hope and expect to see them visiting her over the coming months. A friend
of mine mentioned that this will be tough on my dad too – so if you read this,
dad, you can call me any time.
Damn you, cancer!