Sad times in the Skipahsphere!
I’m supposed to be telling you about the awesome time we had at Entertrainment Junction in Cincinnati, Ohio this past weekend. Inserted would be a bunch of pictures of me donning my favorite engineering hat and going “Chug-A-Lugga Choo-Choo” like an extra in a Thomas the Train cartoon. I’m supposed to be jumping up and down because Christmas is almost here and I can finally put that damn Elf up for another year. I’m supposed to be glazing a couple of hams to perfection for visiting family this upcoming week. I’m supposed to be happy as a wino in a bar because of everything awesome going on in my life.
One problem with all this is that cancer doesn’t care. Cancer doesn’t care whose life it affects. It doesn’t care about you, me, or the man on the moon. Its only existence on this planet is to cause pain and suffering. Cancer robbed me off what should have been an unforgettable weekend, and more than likely it’s going to keep on robbing me for a long time to come.
I don’t care if you play cards every night with The Marlboro Man and Joe Camel, or the only toxic substance you’ve ever put in your body were the fumes you inhaled the last time you painted your bedroom. Cancer doesn’t care, it doesn’t discriminate, it will get you one way or another if your numbers come up in the cancer lottery.
If you are fortunate enough to beat it, it’s only a temporary win. Cancer never goes away, it just lies dormant like an ancient species of bedbugs and rears its head when you least expect it. For the rest of your life every time you get a weird pang in your stomach or an ache in your joints you immediately think of the worse. Why? Because cancer doesn’t care, it’s owns your psyche because it is more evil than Hitler.
No I don’t have cancer, but someone very near and dear to me does. She whipped its ass once before and this time cancer came back loaded for bear determined to get her. Mr. Cancer might just do it this time, he’s got her on the ropes and is ahead on all the judges’ scorecards heading into the final round. The most positive person I’ve potentially ever known in my life currently sits in a hospital bed leaning on OxyContin and a glimmer of hope that she gets to come home for Christmas. Why does this have to happen to someone on par with Mother Theresa, because cancer doesn’t care.
Our society has invented weaponry that can obliterate a tick on a camel’s ass from some zillion miles away. When I hit publish on this post anyone in the world can read it within seconds if they so choose to. Yet, we have no cure for this disease? With all the money raised in the annals of history and some of the brightest minds on the planet looking into it we can’t find a way to combat it? Where is Dr. Jonas Salk when you need him! You think cancer really cares?
I write this with a heavy heart, people I love and hold near and dear to me are suffering. Hell, I’m suffering, but I have big shoulders and they are only broadening right now to help carry the load so others don’t. I’m about to lose a friend and mentor potentially. I don’t care what the doctors are saying right now, one thing doctors can’t factor in any physiological test is stubbornness and my friend is as stubborn as they come! Cancer is pissing me off just writing this, but we already have learned cancer doesn’t care.
Cancer doesn’t care if you are a mother, grandmother, friend, or a respected member of the community. It doesn’t care how many good deeds you have done in your life. It doesn’t care how many children you have touched in your professional career. Cancer doesn’t care!
My Christmas list is nothing more than a big kick in the ass to cancer! Do not take one of the good people away from us because you can. Cancer you can go screw yourself! If you take this woman out of my life because you have nothing better to do, you are about to meet Mr. Skipah the world’s biggest asshole! Don’t make me get to that point. Of course what would it matter, because cancer doesn’t care.