I’ve always found it easier to express myself through writing. To pen down my thoughts and feelings. And because I have a bunch of them all stemming from you, what better way to get them out than to write you a letter?
You know, I was aware of your reputation. What you are capable of. I’ve merely seen the disaster, the pain and sadness you are able to unleash. And I knew I never wanted to meet you. In fact, nobody wants to meet you. Nobody likes you and nobody wants you.
But then, one day you came knocking. The sound you made actually wasn’t that terrifying. But that was only because all those highly-trained soldiers we have fighting against you with their super-guns didn’t even know it was you at the door. They were under the impression that you were another villain, probably just as mean but not as menacing. That other villain didn’t have your name so there was no reason to be terrified. Fear not! We can squash this one, easily rid ourselves of it, the generals declared.
But of course they could not. Because behind that mask was you, C. You reared your ugly head, let out a menacing laugh and looked us straight in the eye. You know how powerful you are and you relish that power. You remind me alot of some people I know.
I hate you C. Honestly, I have never hated anything as much as I hate you. How can I not? Just think of what you’ve done. Look what you did to Ryan O’Neal and Ali McGraw in Love Story! What about Debra Winger and Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment?! And I bet you haven’t forgotten about Bryan Cranston in Breaking Bad?! Oh the tragedies! And all those lives lost. That would never have happened if it weren’t for you!
You came knocking for a second time. And then a third time. You relentless beast.
Since then I know better than to underestimate you. Just like an army of ants, hated and despised yet perhaps secretly admired for their perseverance, for a moment I was left speechless by your determination. I acknowledged your power. And that, dear C, makes me a strong enemy of yours.
You see, C, I refuse to be scared of you. I offer words of encouragement to your captives but also meticulously plan how to fight you. The generals and soldiers say they know how to deal with you. We have special weapons, they say. Well, as far as I’m concerned, unless those special weapons can aim at your head and blow you into oblivion never to return again, they aren’t special. They are arrows laced with poison to bring you to your knees but they are nothing without an epic battle.
That’s why I am forming strategies, which you may say are child-like strategies compared to your mighty strength but even if it is just sticks and stones, I CAN hurt you. And I will.
How do I know that,C? Because I know that you can be beaten. You don’t always win. Because your captives possess more than just tenacity. They have valor, a dogged spirit and a fearless need to live. Sometimes you chose the wrong people to mess with, C! You’re a bully and everyone hates bullies. We stand up to them after being pushed around too many times and we fight back!
So after letting go of a few thoughts I have on the matter of you C, it is with all my might, strength and power that I say FUCK YOU!
Here are some links to inspiring articles and videos by people who have come face to face with cancer.
How long have I got left was written by a 38-year old non-smoking neurosurgeon who died of lung cancer within two years.
Four incredible women and their stories. Cancer or no cancer, their words are inspirational.
This woman calls herself The Cancer Slayer.
A few documentaries worth watching.
Please respect that this is my own personal space and this letter is my own personal way of dealing with cancer striking yet another member of my family. I have written and published these words in hope that my family and I will become even stronger.