This year's Christmas was not the best. Don't get me wrong, it was enjoyable, but because my sister's family was sick, so they stayed home. It was the first time in my life that I did not have my whole family with me for Christmas. Michael is doing very well, and for that I am extremely glad.
Just a few days before Christmas Michael and I finally got a tree. It was sitting all by itself, sad and wet, in the corner of Home Depot. Poor thing, it probably thought it would end up in the burn pile without ever knowing it's true beauty. We saw it! It has been the most beautiful tree we've ever had. I really don't want to take it down...
We had a good Christmas with Devon and my folks. There is no feeling like being in warm jammies, opening presents, laughing and just having fun. I don't know about Michael, but it did a lot for me.
I'm glad, because after Christmas some side effects started. Michael is getting the metallic taste in his mouth and he has dry mouth like whoa! He has little energy, and is fatigued so easy. He's sleeping well, so that's a blessing, and his appetite is going strong. Even though he is doing well, I know his immunity is crap. Thus, my sister missing Christmas. We have to keep the germs away.
Then after Christmas Devon got sick. Gah!
I followed him around the house with anti-bacterial wipes. Sorry, Dev! He's such a sweet kid, he pretty much quarantined himself in his room for days so as not to get Michael sick. The flu is on the rise in St. Louis. My sister's family was germy. Now my kid was sick. I wanted to wrap Michael in bubble wrap and stick him on a high shelf.
The 29th was my mom's birthday. Devon was feeling better so we set up a dinner date with my mom and dad that evening. She was spending the day with my sister's family, so that would give them time to clean up and meet us. I was still leary, so I sat between him and Michael as a buffer. My mom and dad showed up... with my sister's family.
Great, so instead of three people who can potentially make Michael sick, I now had seven. I wanted to give everyone a Purell shower. Don't touch anything, don't talk to Michael, don't even breathe!
I've become obsessed with clean surfaces. I watch Michael's every move (much to his chagrin). I try to fix meals that are high in calories and healthy at the same time (not as easy as I thought). I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep until I know he's sleeping. I feed the snakes and scoop the cat poop because Michael shouldn't do it. I feel like my grandmother with how hot I keep the house and car (roasting!).
Others don't know. They don't live with it. It hasn't changed their lives. Their day-to-day routines are the same. They don't spend hours at doctor's offices. They don't listen to the good news and bad. They don't see the others going through the same thing. It's an exclusive club, one with no privileges. Michael and I are doing very well, and for that I am very thankful. But outsiders just don't know. They can't.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Chemo - Schmemo
We had our first chemo session yesterday. It wasn't as bad as we thought. It took less time, too, only 5 hours. We were sure we'd be there until the sun went down.
Everyone at the Cancer Center is great. They really take care of their patients. I made three hats and donated them to the cause. I can spit them out in about an hour if they are simple. Three hours if not.
Michael feels fine. He slept... a lot! But so far no sickness or terrible, terrible side effects. Everyone keeps telling us they don't show up right away so I am on pins and needles. Michael is more optimistic. We'll see.
I just hope we can hold off any nastiness until after Christmas.
Merry Christmas to everyone, and to everyone a good night!
Everyone at the Cancer Center is great. They really take care of their patients. I made three hats and donated them to the cause. I can spit them out in about an hour if they are simple. Three hours if not.
Michael feels fine. He slept... a lot! But so far no sickness or terrible, terrible side effects. Everyone keeps telling us they don't show up right away so I am on pins and needles. Michael is more optimistic. We'll see.
I just hope we can hold off any nastiness until after Christmas.
Merry Christmas to everyone, and to everyone a good night!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
A Wedding and a Week's Worth of Waiting
On December 13, 2013, Michael and I eloped. We had a very short, very small ceremony in the place he first asked me to be his girlfriend. I wore a white dress. He wore a black suit. It was amazing.
We had a very short honeymoon in Hermann, MO before returning to St. Louis and starting a week of doctor appointments. On Monday Michael was scheduled to have his port put in. Oh wait, not so fast! Scheduling conflict, the port is actually going in on Thursday. Grrrrr.
The doctor putting the port in... I'm so glad he is not a proctologist. He has fingers bigger than a summer sausage. He's 6'6" at least and eats very well. He and his staff tried their best to fix the error but it couldn't be done, so Thursday it is.
Later that day we met with the Chemo doctor and took a tour of the facility. Up until that point it wasn't real to me. Like talking about a vacation, you don't get excited until your bags are packed and you're on your way. Seeing the room with the recliners and IV poles brought it all home. My husband has cancer. It's not a joke or a mistake. This is really happening.
But the ladies of the cancer center were very warm and welcoming. The doc has been doing this for 38 years so I'll believe anything that comes out of that women's mouth. Well... ok, I probably won't because I don't trust people but I do feel he is in capable hands.
Tuesday they took a bone marrow sample. Yeah, they stuck a big needle through his bone and sucked some juice out. It wasn't as bad and we thought, but still, ew. I'm so glad that's over.
Today Michael had to go through a lung test. He blew into a tube. That's the description I got, don't blame me for being vague. Everything looked good. Thursday he gets the port. Friday they test his heart. We have one last weekend and them boom-shaka-laka, chemo on Monday. It's been both a slow and fast week for us. So much crap, so much waiting.
One nice thing is they gave us a lovely blanket. Volunteers make them for cancer patients. I like this idea. I saw they also had a basket with free hats. There were only two little hats in there, so I'm going to make some to donate. We will have a lot of time on Monday, so I plan on making them right in the center. On a loom I can spit them out one after another, boy;)
Michael says he feels like he's already beat this thing, all we have to do now is go through the motions. I love this man. He was broken and angry when we met. (Let's face it, so was I.) But we have healed each other and led each other to a better path. I am a firm believer in everything happens for a reason. My life has led me to this place. I will be Michael's strength when he feels weak, his caretaker when he is sick, and his fighting spirit when he feels weary. He has done this for me.
I once thought love was dead, or something made up by Hollywood and Hallmark. But I know it's real. I see it in Michael's eyes when we wake up in the morning. I feel it when we hold hands. Love isn't the big gestures or romantic nights, it's in the tears I wipe from his eyes when he is upset. It is in the way he scrapes the ice off the car so my hands won't get cold. It's laughing in the grocery store, or discussing the tragedy of Firefly being canceled after only one season. There are thousands of ways we love each other every day and we don't have to try.
So I hope you are ready, Cancer. We are going to kick your ass.
We had a very short honeymoon in Hermann, MO before returning to St. Louis and starting a week of doctor appointments. On Monday Michael was scheduled to have his port put in. Oh wait, not so fast! Scheduling conflict, the port is actually going in on Thursday. Grrrrr.
The doctor putting the port in... I'm so glad he is not a proctologist. He has fingers bigger than a summer sausage. He's 6'6" at least and eats very well. He and his staff tried their best to fix the error but it couldn't be done, so Thursday it is.
Later that day we met with the Chemo doctor and took a tour of the facility. Up until that point it wasn't real to me. Like talking about a vacation, you don't get excited until your bags are packed and you're on your way. Seeing the room with the recliners and IV poles brought it all home. My husband has cancer. It's not a joke or a mistake. This is really happening.
But the ladies of the cancer center were very warm and welcoming. The doc has been doing this for 38 years so I'll believe anything that comes out of that women's mouth. Well... ok, I probably won't because I don't trust people but I do feel he is in capable hands.
Tuesday they took a bone marrow sample. Yeah, they stuck a big needle through his bone and sucked some juice out. It wasn't as bad and we thought, but still, ew. I'm so glad that's over.
Today Michael had to go through a lung test. He blew into a tube. That's the description I got, don't blame me for being vague. Everything looked good. Thursday he gets the port. Friday they test his heart. We have one last weekend and them boom-shaka-laka, chemo on Monday. It's been both a slow and fast week for us. So much crap, so much waiting.
One nice thing is they gave us a lovely blanket. Volunteers make them for cancer patients. I like this idea. I saw they also had a basket with free hats. There were only two little hats in there, so I'm going to make some to donate. We will have a lot of time on Monday, so I plan on making them right in the center. On a loom I can spit them out one after another, boy;)
Michael says he feels like he's already beat this thing, all we have to do now is go through the motions. I love this man. He was broken and angry when we met. (Let's face it, so was I.) But we have healed each other and led each other to a better path. I am a firm believer in everything happens for a reason. My life has led me to this place. I will be Michael's strength when he feels weak, his caretaker when he is sick, and his fighting spirit when he feels weary. He has done this for me.
I once thought love was dead, or something made up by Hollywood and Hallmark. But I know it's real. I see it in Michael's eyes when we wake up in the morning. I feel it when we hold hands. Love isn't the big gestures or romantic nights, it's in the tears I wipe from his eyes when he is upset. It is in the way he scrapes the ice off the car so my hands won't get cold. It's laughing in the grocery store, or discussing the tragedy of Firefly being canceled after only one season. There are thousands of ways we love each other every day and we don't have to try.
So I hope you are ready, Cancer. We are going to kick your ass.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
PET Scan Fun
Yesterday Michael had his first PET scan. They had to make a mold of his upper body. Michael is claustrophobic. As such, they gave him a nice little pill to take before the procedures began. At first he was kind of drowsy. Then the fun began!
I was treated to a tissue paper magic show, then a conversation about soilent green. There was another conversation I enjoyed greatly, but I'm not going to share. My mom reads this blog:) They told him that little pill might make him loopy and they did not lie.
Finally it was time for Michael to get his mold made. I thought it would be a simple chin/neck/shoulders mold. Not so! This thing covers most of his upper body, head to belly button. It's made of a really large mesh, and once that sucker dried Michael wasn't going anywhere.
Then we had to walk to the other end of the hospital to get the PET scan. The thing is done on a mobile unit, so Michael disappeared into the uber-mobile home and I went in search of reading materials. I forgot my knitting:( But, the gift shop had the PEOPLE Sexiest Man Alive issue, so I wasn't without entertainment, hehe.
Later I learned they took the mold made earlier and then bolted it to the table. Michael was completely immobile. Then they secured his legs and boom, he might as well have been encased in carbonite. All I have to say is - nope nope nope nope nope nope!
Michael was done 1.5 hours later. He came out with a wire thing attached to his neck and in a hurry. "What's the rush?" I asked. "I broke all thier stuff." He said.
1 plastic hook - his coat was too heavy
1 upper portion of the scan table - he stumbled into it because the loopy pill was still active
1 lower portion of the scan table - he stumbled into it after bouncing off the upper portion
They did seem in a hurry to get rid of him. After that I kind of held on to him, didn't want him breaking anything else;) We ate and then took a long nap. We will get the results Thursday. Fingers crossed!
I was treated to a tissue paper magic show, then a conversation about soilent green. There was another conversation I enjoyed greatly, but I'm not going to share. My mom reads this blog:) They told him that little pill might make him loopy and they did not lie.
Finally it was time for Michael to get his mold made. I thought it would be a simple chin/neck/shoulders mold. Not so! This thing covers most of his upper body, head to belly button. It's made of a really large mesh, and once that sucker dried Michael wasn't going anywhere.
Then we had to walk to the other end of the hospital to get the PET scan. The thing is done on a mobile unit, so Michael disappeared into the uber-mobile home and I went in search of reading materials. I forgot my knitting:( But, the gift shop had the PEOPLE Sexiest Man Alive issue, so I wasn't without entertainment, hehe.
Later I learned they took the mold made earlier and then bolted it to the table. Michael was completely immobile. Then they secured his legs and boom, he might as well have been encased in carbonite. All I have to say is - nope nope nope nope nope nope!
Michael was done 1.5 hours later. He came out with a wire thing attached to his neck and in a hurry. "What's the rush?" I asked. "I broke all thier stuff." He said.
1 plastic hook - his coat was too heavy
1 upper portion of the scan table - he stumbled into it because the loopy pill was still active
1 lower portion of the scan table - he stumbled into it after bouncing off the upper portion
They did seem in a hurry to get rid of him. After that I kind of held on to him, didn't want him breaking anything else;) We ate and then took a long nap. We will get the results Thursday. Fingers crossed!
Monday, December 9, 2013
Soothing the Monster
There is a monster that lives inside me. She is soulless, hateful, hurtful, and cold. So very, very cold. She likes to create chaos and watch the aftermath. She likes to shred dignity and tear apart security. She got loose after my divorce but I managed to minimize the damage. She destroyed some good friendships that time. So as you can guess, I like to keep her chained up.
Michael makes her purr. She gave him a few testy swipes when we first got together, but he stopped that shit pretty quick. She likes him. She is content to lay there and let the world pass as long as he is near.
So, as you can imagine, she is enraged with the concept of losing him. She has jerked around in her chains so much she's rubbed her neck and hands raw. Bleeding, furious, she wants out. She wants to maim, destroy, and kill. She wants to watch this city burn and then turn her sights on the world. She won't be happy until this blue marble becomes a blackened, lifeless rock.
I've tried talking to her but it's useless. She's heard it all before. There isn't anything I can say or offer to keep her quiet. She only listens to one person now and that's Michael. Like I said, I have her under tight lock and key so until this weekend Michael didn't even know she was upset. But he saw her peeking out from behind my eyes.
He sat her down (she'll sit for him) and talked to her softly (she shuts up when he's around, too). He told her she had to behave, no matter what happened, because I can't deal with the big C and her at the same time. He patted her fiery head and made her promise to cool it. He promised to come see her more, bring her some treats, and spend as much time with her as she needed. This made her incredibly happy.
Part of what was pissing her off was being hidden, being treated like a dirty little secret. He knows she's there. I forgot this. There isn't a part of me Michael doesn't know. And despite her appearance and violent tendencies, her loves her. He loves her for her loyalty and passion. He loves her for helping me survive when I couldn't do it on my own. He loves her because he loves me.
He also promised her that if there is a time she's needed, he'll let her out.
Now she's curled up with her demented little teddy bear, snoozing away. I'll hear her laughing every once in a while, I'm sure, and making inappropriate comments when she pleases, but this I can handle.
Michael makes her purr. She gave him a few testy swipes when we first got together, but he stopped that shit pretty quick. She likes him. She is content to lay there and let the world pass as long as he is near.
So, as you can imagine, she is enraged with the concept of losing him. She has jerked around in her chains so much she's rubbed her neck and hands raw. Bleeding, furious, she wants out. She wants to maim, destroy, and kill. She wants to watch this city burn and then turn her sights on the world. She won't be happy until this blue marble becomes a blackened, lifeless rock.
I've tried talking to her but it's useless. She's heard it all before. There isn't anything I can say or offer to keep her quiet. She only listens to one person now and that's Michael. Like I said, I have her under tight lock and key so until this weekend Michael didn't even know she was upset. But he saw her peeking out from behind my eyes.
He sat her down (she'll sit for him) and talked to her softly (she shuts up when he's around, too). He told her she had to behave, no matter what happened, because I can't deal with the big C and her at the same time. He patted her fiery head and made her promise to cool it. He promised to come see her more, bring her some treats, and spend as much time with her as she needed. This made her incredibly happy.
Part of what was pissing her off was being hidden, being treated like a dirty little secret. He knows she's there. I forgot this. There isn't a part of me Michael doesn't know. And despite her appearance and violent tendencies, her loves her. He loves her for her loyalty and passion. He loves her for helping me survive when I couldn't do it on my own. He loves her because he loves me.
He also promised her that if there is a time she's needed, he'll let her out.
Now she's curled up with her demented little teddy bear, snoozing away. I'll hear her laughing every once in a while, I'm sure, and making inappropriate comments when she pleases, but this I can handle.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
One Step Forward
Finally, after two weeks, we heard from the cancer center. No rush, y'all, really. It's only cancer.
Waiting for news, ANY news, during Thanksgiving was hard. We had no idea what was going on, who was going to call us, or when we'd see a doctor again. Meanwhile, the cancer kept growing. Michael kept having terrible night sweats, horrible hot flashes, and constant struggles with his mood. It was nice to see the boys for Thanksgiving, but after they left Michael had a bit of a break down. What if this was the last Thanksgiving he would ever have?
How can I answer that? He may beat cancer and get hit by a bus. No one can guarantee another year, but I tried my best to reassure him we were going to beat this. We can't give in to anger or sadness. So we put on brave faces and smiles, then lay in bed with the worries eating away at our sanity.
I was so angry with the cancer center, the doctors, everyone. Michael is not a name and number on a sheet of paper. He's a human being with feelings and family and people who love him. He has scars from the past we've worked so hard to heal. He is a wonderful person, full of life, and I watched it drain away each day with no news. I didn't have any answers for him. I didn't have any words to make him feel better. I was so fit to be tied I would have picked a fight with a 300-pound pro boxer just to feel something other than frustration and worry.
And damn it all if "cancer" isn't posted on every thing under the sun. Buses, cars, billboards, Facebook, TV commercials, news headlines, store fronts and merchandise displays. EVERYTHING. We can't get away from it if we try.
Getting the call yesterday took a load off both our shoulders. Finally, we are moving forward! We saw the doc at 9am this morning and learned we have to... see another doctor. Great. At least they have Michael's PET scan set up. That happens next Tuesday. Then we see the Medical Oncologist on Thursday. Then we'll set up a treatment plan, then we'll... then, then, then. A host of endless thens.
I'm trying to stay positive, but the negative feeling will ambush me at times. They are relentless, those little bastards. I'll hear a song or see one of the endless sappy video's people post all over Facebook and boom, tears. It's crazy. And I still have menopause to look forward to.
Oi!
Waiting for news, ANY news, during Thanksgiving was hard. We had no idea what was going on, who was going to call us, or when we'd see a doctor again. Meanwhile, the cancer kept growing. Michael kept having terrible night sweats, horrible hot flashes, and constant struggles with his mood. It was nice to see the boys for Thanksgiving, but after they left Michael had a bit of a break down. What if this was the last Thanksgiving he would ever have?
How can I answer that? He may beat cancer and get hit by a bus. No one can guarantee another year, but I tried my best to reassure him we were going to beat this. We can't give in to anger or sadness. So we put on brave faces and smiles, then lay in bed with the worries eating away at our sanity.
I was so angry with the cancer center, the doctors, everyone. Michael is not a name and number on a sheet of paper. He's a human being with feelings and family and people who love him. He has scars from the past we've worked so hard to heal. He is a wonderful person, full of life, and I watched it drain away each day with no news. I didn't have any answers for him. I didn't have any words to make him feel better. I was so fit to be tied I would have picked a fight with a 300-pound pro boxer just to feel something other than frustration and worry.
And damn it all if "cancer" isn't posted on every thing under the sun. Buses, cars, billboards, Facebook, TV commercials, news headlines, store fronts and merchandise displays. EVERYTHING. We can't get away from it if we try.
Getting the call yesterday took a load off both our shoulders. Finally, we are moving forward! We saw the doc at 9am this morning and learned we have to... see another doctor. Great. At least they have Michael's PET scan set up. That happens next Tuesday. Then we see the Medical Oncologist on Thursday. Then we'll set up a treatment plan, then we'll... then, then, then. A host of endless thens.
I'm trying to stay positive, but the negative feeling will ambush me at times. They are relentless, those little bastards. I'll hear a song or see one of the endless sappy video's people post all over Facebook and boom, tears. It's crazy. And I still have menopause to look forward to.
Oi!
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Cancer Comes Home
Most of the time I will type while emotional, so you grammar Nazi's can suck it.
About a month ago my fiance came home and said he needed to see a doctor. I was immediately alarmed because my man does NOT do doctors. Many years ago he cut his thumb off. We're talking hanging on by a tiny thread here. He would have sewn it back on himself had it not been his dominant hand. He's the kind of guy who would crawl to work, sick as a dog, over broken glass before he would set foot in a hospital. So, for him to volunteer I knew there was a problem.
Fast forward through doctor's appointments, CT scans, and a biopsy. Michael has cancer, Hodkins Lymphoma to be exact. "Oh, that's the cancer you want to get. It's the lesser of all cancers. We'll fix him right up."
Uh-huh.
That doesn't stop the ice-cold finger of fear from going straight up your bum. No one ever wants to hear the word CANCER, and certainly not attached to a loved one. I went through a gambit of emotions, all while trying to keep a stiff upper lip, and the one I keep coming back to is anger. Not because my baby has cancer. But because cancer is no longer a disease. It is a business.
I started looking up treatments. I knew Michael would probably go through Chemo, so I wanted to be as educated as possible. I found plenty on administering the drugs, how one goes about it, where they can get it, and what the nasty side effects are. I was feeling pretty hopeless until I found out there is a Chemo pill. What? So I looked it up. Less side effects, less expensive, and taking it doesn't disrupt your life. Eureka!! We'd found a happy answer among a lot of bad news.
It didn't last long. The pill is expensive as hell, in the thousands of dollars range. And that's even if you have insurance. Why? Most insurance won't cover it. Now I know insurance companies, if questioned, will offer all sorts of excuses on why they won't cover it. These reasons sound good but basically it's all bullshit. The reason they won't cover it is because if they do, the drug companies will lose money.
Yeah, money.
Just today I read an article on a Canadian researcher who has found a possible cure for cancer. Read about it here. The drug is effective, cheap, and has no side effects. Sounds great, right? This man is having a hell of a time trying to continue his research. Why?
Because no pharmaceutical company will support him. Why?
Because they won't make a profit.
Yeah, money.
Yep. Screw your family, your loved one, your safety, and everything about your life. Your loved one is not a person, they are a commodity, and if big business can't make money off commodity then they won't do anything to help them. They are not people, they are dollar signs. Say goodbye to Daddy, kids, his insurance just ran out and we don't have a use for him anymore.
The CEO of the Susan B. Komen Foundation makes nearly $700,000 a year. How? Because most of the money collected for CANCER doesn't go to CANCER RESEARCH. It goes into the pockets of those who work for the association. Read about it here. Just give me five minutes alone with her so I can introduce her to all her organs, one at a time.
Cancer is big business. Don't think so? How many people would lose their jobs today if cancer just disappeared? I'm betting millions. How much money would this world save if all the money we pumped into cancer wasn't necessary anymore? Billions. Here's the thought that struck me. Cancer will never be cured. In fact, cancer is going to continually grow until everyone in the world gets one form or another.
We pollute everything with artificial crap and unnecessary chemicals. We have more cancer cases every year. Coincidence?
Every company in the world slaps a pink ribbon on something they sell and promises to give money to cancer research. Oh, they do. But not much. Most of the profits from their pink products goes right back in their own pockets. And we're stupid enough to fall for it.
I saw a commercial the other day with an actor going around thanking everyone for kicking cancer. How much did that cost? You have the actor (who may have donated his time), but there are location fees, permits, b-actors, lighting, editing, CG, advertisement costs, so on. How much? Let's just say it cost $100,000 to make that one stupid commercial. How many cancer pills would that have bought, Hollywood?
Dealing with cancer is hard enough - The fear, the uncertainty, being helpless against something you can't fix, dealing with doctors who don't give a crap about how long it takes to give you results or information, the night sweats, the pain, the swelling, and the realization your future plans have been shot to hell. Forget depression, the panic can kill you all by itself. And the tears. Good God, the tears. It's a hell I wouldn't wish on anyone.
But the real slap in the face is realizing there are CEOs, corporations, foundations, and insurance companies clapping their hands and slapping each other on the back, singing in loud voices, "We got another one! We got another one!"
My man is not a dollar sign.
About a month ago my fiance came home and said he needed to see a doctor. I was immediately alarmed because my man does NOT do doctors. Many years ago he cut his thumb off. We're talking hanging on by a tiny thread here. He would have sewn it back on himself had it not been his dominant hand. He's the kind of guy who would crawl to work, sick as a dog, over broken glass before he would set foot in a hospital. So, for him to volunteer I knew there was a problem.
Fast forward through doctor's appointments, CT scans, and a biopsy. Michael has cancer, Hodkins Lymphoma to be exact. "Oh, that's the cancer you want to get. It's the lesser of all cancers. We'll fix him right up."
Uh-huh.
That doesn't stop the ice-cold finger of fear from going straight up your bum. No one ever wants to hear the word CANCER, and certainly not attached to a loved one. I went through a gambit of emotions, all while trying to keep a stiff upper lip, and the one I keep coming back to is anger. Not because my baby has cancer. But because cancer is no longer a disease. It is a business.
I started looking up treatments. I knew Michael would probably go through Chemo, so I wanted to be as educated as possible. I found plenty on administering the drugs, how one goes about it, where they can get it, and what the nasty side effects are. I was feeling pretty hopeless until I found out there is a Chemo pill. What? So I looked it up. Less side effects, less expensive, and taking it doesn't disrupt your life. Eureka!! We'd found a happy answer among a lot of bad news.
It didn't last long. The pill is expensive as hell, in the thousands of dollars range. And that's even if you have insurance. Why? Most insurance won't cover it. Now I know insurance companies, if questioned, will offer all sorts of excuses on why they won't cover it. These reasons sound good but basically it's all bullshit. The reason they won't cover it is because if they do, the drug companies will lose money.
Yeah, money.
Just today I read an article on a Canadian researcher who has found a possible cure for cancer. Read about it here. The drug is effective, cheap, and has no side effects. Sounds great, right? This man is having a hell of a time trying to continue his research. Why?
Because no pharmaceutical company will support him. Why?
Because they won't make a profit.
Yeah, money.
Yep. Screw your family, your loved one, your safety, and everything about your life. Your loved one is not a person, they are a commodity, and if big business can't make money off commodity then they won't do anything to help them. They are not people, they are dollar signs. Say goodbye to Daddy, kids, his insurance just ran out and we don't have a use for him anymore.
The CEO of the Susan B. Komen Foundation makes nearly $700,000 a year. How? Because most of the money collected for CANCER doesn't go to CANCER RESEARCH. It goes into the pockets of those who work for the association. Read about it here. Just give me five minutes alone with her so I can introduce her to all her organs, one at a time.
Cancer is big business. Don't think so? How many people would lose their jobs today if cancer just disappeared? I'm betting millions. How much money would this world save if all the money we pumped into cancer wasn't necessary anymore? Billions. Here's the thought that struck me. Cancer will never be cured. In fact, cancer is going to continually grow until everyone in the world gets one form or another.
We pollute everything with artificial crap and unnecessary chemicals. We have more cancer cases every year. Coincidence?
Every company in the world slaps a pink ribbon on something they sell and promises to give money to cancer research. Oh, they do. But not much. Most of the profits from their pink products goes right back in their own pockets. And we're stupid enough to fall for it.
I saw a commercial the other day with an actor going around thanking everyone for kicking cancer. How much did that cost? You have the actor (who may have donated his time), but there are location fees, permits, b-actors, lighting, editing, CG, advertisement costs, so on. How much? Let's just say it cost $100,000 to make that one stupid commercial. How many cancer pills would that have bought, Hollywood?
Dealing with cancer is hard enough - The fear, the uncertainty, being helpless against something you can't fix, dealing with doctors who don't give a crap about how long it takes to give you results or information, the night sweats, the pain, the swelling, and the realization your future plans have been shot to hell. Forget depression, the panic can kill you all by itself. And the tears. Good God, the tears. It's a hell I wouldn't wish on anyone.
But the real slap in the face is realizing there are CEOs, corporations, foundations, and insurance companies clapping their hands and slapping each other on the back, singing in loud voices, "We got another one! We got another one!"
My man is not a dollar sign.
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