the c word

I'm afraid to even type it, lest I become associated with it. And I don't mean the vulgar reference to the female hoo-ha. I mean the dreaded c word: cancer.

In the spate of just two months, five people I know have been diagnosed with cancer. One of them is in hospice care with just a few weeks left to live. He is 54 and will be saying good bye to his wife and his two kids. My colleague and friend who bought a special dress to attend my wedding will soon undergo treatment for invasive breast cancer. She is 46 years old. My good friend's stepfather is battling brain cancer. He is 58. My cousin's dearest friend is getting treatment for invasive breast cancer. 42.

What the hell, life? Why are you striking down so many young, loving, decent people? In two weeks I will undergo my annual pap smear and I'm petrified that I will be the next name on the c-word list. Okay, probably not likely, but the fear is real. I have to undergo a mammogram and I'm wondering if they will find something I missed. I am busting J's balls about getting his regular prostate exam and feeding him extra tomatoes to protect his health.

Damn you c-word, and all the chaos you create.