Cancer infuriates me...

It knows no boundaries. It strikes anyone. It has no mercy. No compassion. In short? It pisses me off.

A dear friend of mine lost his battle with lung cancer (that metastasized to his brain) very suddenly this morning. His name was Johnny. Never smoked a day in his life. He has an 8 year old son. We were raising money for him to take his son to Disneyworld at the end of May. He jokingly called it his “just in case I don’t make it trip.”

I saw him at church this past Sunday. Everyone was surprised and encouraged that he was there.

He was so much sicker than he let anyone know. But it ended very…very suddenly.

Johnny was the most talented keys player I’ve ever met. I worked with him musically every chance I got, and he never failed to amaze me. One of those people, too, who could ALWAYS make you laugh, no matter what was going on. He had a joke and a smart answer for everything…and even through his struggle, he was more concerned about how WE were doing than how he was doing. Heart bigger than an ocean.

The world will laugh a lot less now that he’s not in it.

I am shadowing an oncologist (who is also a dear friend) on Tuesday. Think I’ll have some questions for him that go beyond the basics.

Here’s to each of you in the constant pursuit of medical knowledge. Somebody…somewhere…someday is going to figure this disease out before anybody else has to lose a parent. Or a child. Or a friend.

My best friend died of a brain tumor at 19 years old. My brother is a survivor of the same kind of brain tumor, and is a bit of a conundrum to doctors. He’s disabled–but he’s alive. Now my friend Johnny… it’s too much. It makes me angry. I. Just. Don’t. Get. It.

Carry on, friends–learn as much as you can. Chase the research. Do the trials. Read the journals. Find the answer.

I’m very sorry to hear of the loss of your friend, and my prayers are with you and his family.

I’ve loss far too many people to count to cancer including my father, so I understand how you feel. I also recently gave up a well paying and secure position in the middle of a recession, to return to cancer research which I will begin soon . And I’m quite certain that I’ll be one of those Physicians that also does cancer research too.

Thank you so much–both for your condolences, and for your willingness to do the work. I’ve learned from my oncologist friend that working with patients who’ve landed in the path of this monster is both victory and defeat–it’s intense, and it’s rewarding, and it’s scary, and it’s agonizing. I can only imagine that the work of researching this monster would be grueling but also give you an unparalleled sense of purpose. So bless you for your efforts and for the efforts of everyone–patients, doctors, familes alike–who gets up every day to battle this beast.

I worked as a nurse on a neurosurgical stepdown unit. Our primary patient population was made up of patients who received craniotomies related to brain tumors (glioblastomas). I have had many conversations with patients who were angry (as I would be) with that diagnosis. I hate cancer, it’s a bully that does not fight fair.

I’m hoping and believing that someday that we will find a cure.

I’m sorry that you lost your friend.

  • oldnavygirl Said:
I'm hoping and believing that someday that we will find a cure.

What I envision is that cancer will one day be treated in much the same way as diseases like diabetes, as a chronic condition that can allow for a long, healthy life as long as Doctor's orders are followed carefully.