Open Letter

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“James Bond in the Octagon with two razors”

Dear Cancer,

I write this with all of the disrespect and disregard you’ve shown to my son, the people who love him and every other family you’ve tried to break.  You tried to take his life.  My boy, who is one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.  He’s helpful, funny and good.  He is the best parts of me amplified.  You tried to kill him for nothing.  You took his health, his summer and his hair.  You took his eyelashes.  What type of bastard do you have to be to take someone’s eyelashes?  You took his last month of middle school.  You’re going to take his first month of high school.

What you’ve done to my family is unforgivable.  You terrified my daughter – a person who really isn’t scared of anything.  Even when she tried to crack jokes with him, you could see her uncertainty and fear.  She’s 12.  Why would you do that to her?  I walk around in a blanket of sadness and worry all the time.  I’ve had to see my baby go under anesthesia five times in three months.  I laugh when I shouldn’t because if I cry, I’m afraid I’ll never stop.  You stole my words – the gift that helped me cope with every prior struggle.  You are a cluster of crippling, monstrous acts.

We have every reason to be angry horrible people.  Yet despite all of that, he faced you with a grace that in 36 years, I never would have been able to muster.  We are able to face you bravely because he does.  His strength has been the reason that we’re all still able to laugh, love and look to the future.  He committed to his wellness.  Three times a week he attacks physical therapy like a champ, because he will be ready for football tryouts in 10th grade. He’s made plans to travel overseas after he graduates high school and basically has his choice of where.

But being the bitch that you are, you couldn’t just take the L.  You had to try to take his spirit one more time.  You almost did; and in doing so, you almost took mine.  Once again, my son stood up to you and said, “You can’t have me.”  You’ve given it your everything and every day my son wakes up, he tells you no.  Every morning I get to see dozens of other kids and their families who wake up and tell you the same.  There is a cowardice in your indiscriminate cruelty that can’t beat their resolve.  We won’t roll over for you.  His most recent minimum residual disease test is zero.  Typically, when I’m through with a trial, I move forward like it never existed.  I take the lesson and I don’t let the anger fester in my heart.

But you, muthafucka?  You get no such treatment.  People say, “But he/you/your family will be stronger for it.”  Or, “There’s going to be a blessing in this.”  We knew we were blessed and strong without your help, thank you very much.  I am thankful for the amazing people who have reached out to us, but they were amazing before you got here.  There is no karmic “my bad” for you.  I hate you with every fiber of my being.  I will dedicate the rest of my natural life and any other lives granted to me helping families be rid of you.  You are sweatpants on Monday, and you can’t sit with us.  ANY of us.  Not my family or any other.  I told you in May, you wouldn’t get my kid and I meant it.  Because, fuck you.

Sincerely,

Your Sworn Enemy

Posted on by BeeJack70128 in Beating Leukemia 3 Comments

3 Responses to Open Letter

  1. Alovelydai

    Cancer is senseless. We tell it to leave but it can’t hear. We shoo it away but it can’t see. We push that bitch & it doesn’t feel shit. Fuck cancer. Fuck it!!!

     
  2. Roz

    Dear Cancer,
    Fuck you, also.

    Another Sworn Enemy.

     
  3. Markimus Dubicus

    Eff cancer in the A with a big, razor-blade studded dildo.

     

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