tumors

My cat Abby died of cancer about two years ago. I'd found her as a kitten in my stocking the morning of my first Christmas. We grew up together, although she entered puberty a little before I did, because of the whole cat-years thing. She also reached old age long before I ever thought much about it. I still don't think much about it.

When I found out that Abby had cancer - a tumor under her small, scratchy tongue - I sat down with my journal and filled a page with the cramped writing of a miserable, angst-ridden teenager and the words "i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors..." and so on.

A family friend is in the hospital today, with a tumor the size of a golfball lodged in between the two hemispheres of his brain. The operation to remove the thing is tomorrow.

Consider this my second wind.

i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer