You Suck: My Letter to Cancer

I recently experienced a loss due to cancer unlike any other before.  The sister of one of my best friends was overcome by cancer at age 37.  So, I wrote this letter to voice my frustrations at a disease that we are still striving to understand.

My Letter to Cancer


I write to tell you that you suck and that I hate you.  Many members of my family and many friends have engaged in struggles with you:  some have lost and some have not.

My grandmother was a kind, sweet, and devoted woman.  She was devoted to her family and to her God.  You are to blame for her death.  Yet, you were not actually what killed her; but a complication because of you.  A medicinal oversight, the lack of a prescription fulfillment, is what killed her.  She developed congestive heart failure and died many years before her life expectancy.  Her last week was spent uncomfortably, without the ability to speak due to a low blood oxygenation level, holding hands with my grandfather, and hearing us all tell her how much she was loved.  She was loved; you are hated.

My mother is a survivor.  While, in general, that statement truly describes her, most notably I mean that in regards to you.  She may succumb, at some point, but I am thankful that she survived one of your most aggressive forms.  Several years ago, through treatment, raw determination, and God’s care, she survived. She remains alive; she remains strong and unyielding.  She lived; your efforts were thwarted.

Most recently, a friend died from you.  She was 11 months older than me, had three children and a husband, and was dearly loved by everyone.  She was the sister of a brother by friendship–a sister in her own way.  I grew up with her, her husband, and her entire family all at church, in our homes, and in our small, safe town in Kentucky.  My wife and I shared an anniversary date with her and her husband.  My friend and I had gone to school together until graduating high school.  She died; you overwhelmed her.

There is nothing that I can say or do that can make a profound impact on the deaths you create.  My words are not enough to convey my frustration and my experiences not enough to summarize the loathing of my people for you.  We may never stop you, not fully, but I found need to express myself in  regards to how I feel for you.





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