Okay, Cancer, I’ve had it with you. Now I’m mad. Bloody mad!
I understand that you exist. I understand that sometimes you just pick on people randomly. I understand that sometimes we tease you with poor behaviour and then we act all astonished that you choose us. I understand that none of us are immune to you, that no matter how healthy a lifestyle we lead, you still sometimes tap us on the shoulder and chortle, “Your turn!”
I know that sometimes you win. I know that sometimes we win – and I know that sometimes the price for that is very steep.
I know that for women, the statistics are something like a one-in-eight chance over a lifetime that you will decide to attack us. I know that after age forty, you are more present in more women’s lives.
But dammit, Cancer, you’ve pushed your way into the lives of two of my very closest friends over the past two and a half years. Two very good friends, and two very good fighters. Both of those women are alive and kicking today, having beaten the crap out of you. Both of those women have the battle scars to prove that they won. But both of those women now live with the fact that although you’ve slunk away to lick your wounds for the moment, you may come back out swinging at any time.
And now, you miserable little creep, you’ve attacked yet another of my close friends! She’s a strong one too, and although her battle is just beginning, you’d better watch out. She’s going to wipe the floor with you, just like my other two friends did! And those of us who love and support her are going to laugh at you and kick you when you’re down, too!