No, I've not had bad news from any doctors. Not about myself, anyway. It seems, though, that every day I discover that someone else near and dear to me has heard those three ugly words, "You have cancer." Or someone gets the sad word that their battle with the beast has gone into round two or three...or four. I'd be happy for a day that I don't hear the word cancer, but I never get one. It's insidious.
I find myself resenting the times when those unaware use cancer phraseology in another context. For instance, "It's like a cancer eating away at my insides." No, it's not. Have you ever HAD cancer? Or the author who discusses a problem "metastisizing." Hmm...not quite the way someone with colon cancer discovers that there are now cancerous cells in her liver or his lungs.
Mostly I find myself not sleeping. That boogeyman called cancer comes calling in the dark of the night. I lie there feeling grateful for an early diagnosis and seeming cure, yet fearful it isn't so. And I lie there listing off those I care about and want God to watch over. And I make mental note of those who have gone to their glory, yet are so sadly missed here on earth.
So, yeah, cancer is killing. Bit by bit, it seems to hurt me a little more. I want it to go away and never come back, but cancer is not a good listener. It seems to not hear my cries. One day. One day...