FUCK YOU CANCER

My mother called me twice today in the early afternoon. I didn't want to talk. I have pneumonia and feel drained. I have no clue where I stand with my so-called boyfriend, and I'm not ready to answer any questions about it. But more than anything, I was tired. Tired physically. Tired mentally. Tired. My mom is almost always uplifting, but for some reason I ignored the call. Well, she was persistent. And persistence always makes me fear the worse. With thirty years under my belt of my mom's borderline harrassment-like calls, which always turn out to be about a recipe, a family member I dislike or some other mundane thing, I don't know why I get a rush or worry when I see more than one missed call from her. Today proved to be the reason. My dad has cancer. And now my recent break up doesn't matter. Woes at my job haven't a second thought. Pneumonia is a walk in the part. And all things I thought were the worse in the world now seem like roses.

Tonight, I asked my mom if she thinks my dad knows how much he means to me and she quickly replied, "I think he does." Then I asked her, "Do you know how much you mean to me?" She paused for a long time, began to cry and then replied, "I think so." This means at best, the two people who created me and raised me, the two people who mean the most to me are only partially certain of my love for them. That ain't good. That's not acceptable.

My mom found a lump in her breast and had it removed days before I was born. She's told me the sad story a million times. She was alone. My mom is a trooper. She is the best person I know. My dad will not go through this alone.

When he wouldn't go in for the biopsy weeks ago, my mom threatened to tell us--us meaning me. Before then the possibility had been a secret between the two of them. Anyhow, he refused to go to the appointment and my mom called me. She affectionately said she chose me, the baby, the pitbull of the three, because she knew I would get the job done. I've always been that way. I'd call myself the screw up. My sisters are so perfect. They're such good women--the kind of women I aspire to be. They turn the other cheek. They do unto others. They are always the bigger person. Meanwhile, I am the one who seeks revenge when I know it's not mine. I've gotten better over the years, but when someone starts a thing, I finish it. I always get the last word--even when it's not my battle to fight. If someone wrongs a person I love, my loved one will smile and let it go, but I am the one who steps in and defends his/her honor. So with that being said, my dad will fight this fight quietly, but I am going to be the one who screams out loudly, "FUCK YOU CANCER," with a double flick off to the air. And I hope Cancer hears me. And I hope Cancer fucks off.