The stupid problems

The stupid problems with cancer:

Everything’s pink for breast cancer and I really am not a pink person.

When I cough, I no longer think bronchitis–it must be metastasized cancer that’s gotten into my lungs. Likewise when my knee hurts (bone) or I’m so tired (brain).

The packet has all sorts of stuff about prothesises (prothesi?), but I don’t have a bra that fits…

And how the hell do you tell people?

“Hey Laurie, how ya doing?”

“Not good, I have breast cancer.”


Yeah, how do you respond to that?

Then again, there’s that old story:

A man (yes, man, politically incorrect as it is, it’s an old story!) goes away on a business trip and calls home after a few days. He asks “How’s my cat doing while I’m gone?” The reply is simple, “Oh, your cat died.”

The man is distraught. “How could you tell me so bluntly! You should have given me time to get used to it. You could have told me today that my cat is on the roof and won’t come down. Then tomorrow you could tell me the cat’s still there. Then you could tell me you called the fire department and brought the cat to the vet, but it’s weak. Then, when I had time to get used to the idea, you could tell me how the cat didn’t make it.”

“Oh well, on to other things? How’s Grandma?”

“Grandma’s on the roof and won’t come down.”

So, should I be answering people “Well, I’m going to climb up onto the roof…”?


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