We just got word that my 45-year-old cousin had surgery yesterday to remove a growth in his colon, and indeed it is malignant, and indeed it has spread to his liver. I do not know the prognosis or the treatment options. I do know that his family is devastated, obviously. And for about the umpteenth time in the past few months, I'm thinking about bad news. Granted, I have a tendency to be negative. My husband would say that's understating it. A lot. But there's no amount of upping my dose of SSRIs (as my friend says, "Better living through pharmaceuticals") enough to make any of it easier to understand.
To my cousin, I send out so many positive thoughts...along with reminders of success stories like cyclist Lance Armstrong's (who had testicular cancer that had spread to his lungs and brain and been given only a 50/50 chance for survival). He survived, thrived, and went on to six straight Tour de France wins.
And to whomever else might be listening: enough already. Knock it off. We get it. Life's fragile. Life's a roller coaster. Life's got potholes the size of New Jersey, and right now we've flattened a couple tires driving over one. Whatever sort of analogy you'd like to make, make it here. Or quote those goofy quotes about how "no one said life was fair." Fair's one thing. Mean and spiteful is another.
I'm just trying to figure out what it all means. How it all fits together. So that someday, when H asks me the tough questions, I might have a clue about how to help him find some answers. Right now, I have too many questions of my own.
It's interesting to note that one of a toddler's first words is the inquisitive one: Why? They ask it over and over and over again. I guess they need a lifetime of practice.
To my cousin, I send out so many positive thoughts...along with reminders of success stories like cyclist Lance Armstrong's (who had testicular cancer that had spread to his lungs and brain and been given only a 50/50 chance for survival). He survived, thrived, and went on to six straight Tour de France wins.
And to whomever else might be listening: enough already. Knock it off. We get it. Life's fragile. Life's a roller coaster. Life's got potholes the size of New Jersey, and right now we've flattened a couple tires driving over one. Whatever sort of analogy you'd like to make, make it here. Or quote those goofy quotes about how "no one said life was fair." Fair's one thing. Mean and spiteful is another.
I'm just trying to figure out what it all means. How it all fits together. So that someday, when H asks me the tough questions, I might have a clue about how to help him find some answers. Right now, I have too many questions of my own.
It's interesting to note that one of a toddler's first words is the inquisitive one: Why? They ask it over and over and over again. I guess they need a lifetime of practice.
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