Saw this coming out of the Gap last night and was compelled to stop in my tracks and take a picture — even though the owner of the car was standing right there looking at me like I was a wack-o. I’m pretty sure she didn’t want to get started on a conversation with me, of all people, on the myriad ways in which cancer does indeed suck. We might still be there, standing in the parking lot of First Colony Mall, me a bit winded but still mighty revved up, her wondering what on earth she possibly could have done to deserve this and desperately trying to think of an excuse to get the hay outta dodge.
But I digress. The topic today is how many ways cancer sucks. There’s the obvious: it kills people. There’s the more subtle: it may not kill ya, but it’s serious. There’s the financial: it’s expensive. There’s the practical: it’s time-consuming and draining. There’s the physical: it’s far-reaching in its ways to mess your body up (and it causes me to end a sentence with a preposition, something I am loathe to do). There’s the existential: what is the meaning of this? There’s the guilt: Why me? (or why me, and not someone else who’s really pretty bitchy?) There’s the sad: it’s just sad. There’s the depressing: it’s hard to stay cheery in the face of all this. There’s the hopelessness: you can do everything right and still get burned.
And that’s just what I came up with real quick off the top of my head, but I think I’m on to something.