Happy Christmas?
Dad after his esophagus was removed
I’m not so sure. When everyone gets on your nerves and you want to go home and read all about bloody cancer – is it really a happy time? I might be depressed. I’m certainly suffering from a vague form of ennui (as a friend would put it).
As you can see – I’ve joined Twitter. It’s the little square (right) that tells everyone what I am doing and where I’m at. You can kind of check in on me.
Well.
I don’t know what Dad is doing right now, but I know he’s not nervously sitting in a chair in his dressing gown waiting for cancer to spread through his lungs. Lung Cancer just beat Breast Cancer in Australian women as the leading killer of women in Australia.
Link: One in three Australians will be diagnosed with some form of cancer before reaching age 75.
My tip? Keep away from sugar and flour; a micro-tumor’s favourite food!
(NB: We ALL carry micro-tumors)
Okay. We all die, right? Yes. But cancer is a the nastiest way to die. One day you have it and the next day it’s gone. You live one minute in hope and the next in fear. One day there’s no sign of cancer – or the tumor has shrunk, the next it has come back with full force and vigour.
Cancer hates being operated on. It gets angry and fights back with a vengeance. It is physically and emotionally exhausting. If you were to concoct a way to die – the worst way to die for any one of your enemies – you’d inject them with a bit of cancer and then let it multiply. They do it to mice to see which ones survive. It should be stopped, obviously.
Eating sugary or processed foods = irresponsible.
And smoking = well . . . simply suicidal.
