Posted by Max | Posted on 10/01/2012 07:46:00 PM
Purple & Pink.
Every one of those colors has a ribbon that represents an insidiousness we’d all like to see wiped off the face of this planet. What bites even more is that list is such a tiny one; there are so many forms of this scourge and not enough colors to cover them all.
Cancer is a bitch.
I doubt any of us has escaped the touch of cancer; we all know someone who has battled it, some who won and some who did not; we’ve all loved and cared about someone who has faced the fight. Some of us—not me, and I’m grateful for that—have been the ones in the thick of the fight, reaching down deep for that one thing that will tip the scales to victory.
It’s never a fair fight. I think that’s why, when someone wins, it’s a special kind of wonderful and deserves over-the-top celebrations. And it’s also why, when someone loses, it’s an especially heinous thing worthy of deep, boiling anger and snot-running-down-your-face tears. Because it’s never fair, it’s never remotely fair.
Cancer is an enemy you can’t see; it invades and destroys, and does it so quietly that it can be months before anyone realizes it’s there. It’s hard to fight something you can’t see, something that steals an advantage without letting you know the invasion is coming.
Yeah, that’s not fair.
People do what they can; some go to school for years and years to learn about how to fight cancer, and how to sneak up on it. Some put their shoes on and walk against it, raising money so that the people who went to school can fund their research. Some write papers to teach others, some write blogs to support their friends. Cancer is one thing everyone is on the same side about: everyone is against it.
It doesn’t really matter how you go about taking your stand against cancer, whether you’re on the front line, finding new drugs to battle it, or if you’re in support services, making sandwiches for the people who are walking and raising money, or even if you’re the one sitting at a computer, trying to form a coherent thought about it. It only matters that you want the fight to end forever, and you and it to end in our favor.
People, cats, dogs, whomever. You’re in it to win it, to quote the slogan of one of the big breast cancer organizations. Do what you can, when you can.
Between last years’ Livestrong Day, and this one, we’ve lost far too many to cancer. Some are our cat friends, some are their people.
It doesn’t matter if they were a cat or a human, a dog or a bird or a rabbit or a hamster.
They were loved.
They are loved.
We need this to end.