Fuck Cancer

2009 was a rough year for my family. And boy, do I mean ROUGH.

In January of 09 my uncle, my favorite uncle, the guy whom I called my 2nd dad was diagnosed with terminal stage 5 cancer. See, it started in '08 when he found out he had a tumor on his kidney. They removed the kidney and told him the cancer was gone. They never did a bone scan, and it turns out, they were wrong. By the time he found out the following January that the cancer wasn't gone, the tumors were in his bones and all over his body. They tried one round of an aggressive chemo/radiation cocktail. It caused his remaining kidney to fail. That landed him in the hospital for 3 months so that he could receive dialysis treatment twice a day, 5 days a week. He was finally able to go home, and that's where he passed away a month after. July 2, 2009 was the first time I was able to say 'fuck cancer'.

It wasn't the first time cancer had touched my life: my godfather's wife successfully beat breast cancer. However, it was the first time cancer had taken someone from me. Then in September of '09 my mother was diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer. In December, she had surgery and had the pea sized tumor removed. She was lucky, it was caught early in her annual mammogram, and it was small. She's in remission, but I will always worry. Thus ended 2009, it began and ended in cancer. Fuck that.

This August, my friend Dave's wife passed after a long painful bout with Stage 5 metastasized cancer. It began in her breasts nearly 6 years ago. She had a double mastectomy and beating the odds, won another 5 years with her family. But the cancer fought harder, and it won. My friend is a widower at 30. He was only married a year. Fuck that.

Last fall, my dear friend J's father was diagnosed with brain cancer. A tumor had decided to wrap itself around his brain stem, and was deemed inoperable. The past year has had the family taking him to and from chemo treatments, waiting, watching...but not hoping. Instead, they learned to grieve in advance. Pre-emptive grieving. Learning to put things in perspective for the inevitable. The inevitable should have been old age. But in this case, as it is with so many others, it was cancer.

J's dad passed away this morning. She and her family have been a part of my life since 1994. She was the first person I met in high school orientation. We used to joke that our fathers were personality twins. He leaves behind a wife, two daughters, 5 grandchildren and countless friends and relatives. Like my uncle, and Dave's wife, Mr. D touched many lives before his own was taken before those of us left were ready.

I don't believe in the 'cure' for cancer. But I do believe in research and better treatment. I walk for various charities that donate the proceeds to companies that are researching treatment. So that one day, the word 'cancer' won't sound like the gavel on a death sentence. I ask that anyone reading this do the same. Walk, get sponsors, make a donation. Because cancer touches everyone's life in one way or another. It's only a matter of time before you too can say FUCK CANCER.