You see, I get it with the gratitude journals and love lists and aren't we all just happy to be nominated shit. And when you drop off some forgotten juice to your husband and get a knockout kiss for the extra trip, it's easy to feel thankful for a freshly shaven face and love and all that jazz. But seriously, today my boob is in wicked pain and I feel like this cancer crap sucks. And here's my list to prove it.
1) Anytime there's an unusual step in the cancer dance, I assume the worst. Like this morning when I was being adjusted for the first of three last blasts by the radiation machine, it took the techs extra long (five whole minutes!) to position me on the table. I'm usually fast freda with this stuff, so the more "supe" and "post" tugs on the sheet under me the more anxious I got that my breast must be larger with all the angry cancer cells in there partying it up despite the heat.
2) The whole "cancer won't exist anymore" vision statement of the BCCA. I get that the Agency is completely focused on treatment at the clinical level and research in the back rooms, but the oncs talk about nutrition as part of the solution/prevention as much as I listen to Nickelback. Let's try to be a bit more whole person about this vision, huh?
3) The way cancer taints every nice moment. No matter how much I'm looking forward to PS, my surgery being over, my juicy habit, or Frances' nonsense conversations in the morning, it's rare I think about this stuff without then thinking, "it could all end sooner than I want it to."
4) How I have to pay for an hour of parking when I take 15 minutes at the clinic. We're digging deep here, folks, but why can't they establish some quickie spots so I'm not forking over my LTD cheque to Robbins every month. It's the small things, cancer industry.
Okay, there, I'm done. Oh wait. While I'm at it, let's add all Kate Hudson movies, women's magazines with a "lose 10lbs in 10 days" headline and a picture of a chocolate cake on the cover, sequined Uggs, anti-Ricky Gervais sentiment and Miley Cyrus to that list.
Now I'm done. Fuck you, cancer.