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!