Just A Few Thoughts About Cancer

If I should get through this life here on Earth without having to face cancer in my own body, color me an image of flabbergastation.

There’s a red squiggly line under that word, but I don’t care. Here at TharpSter.Org, one of the tools I wield on a regular basis is the luxury of making up words in which you as my dear reader do not have to inquire as to what they mean.

Cancer.

Breast Cancer CellsAs you undoubtedly may know, September 30th brings an end to Prostate Cancer Awareness month. Breast Cancer Awareness month kicks off in a matter of hours as of the time of this writing. We’re knee deep in the hoopla now, aren’t we?

For several weeks now, I’ve had this blog idea kicking around in el cabeza del TharpSter in which I would try to call attention to the fact that breast cancer affects men too. Certainly the numbers of men it affects per year are considerably lower than what it does to women; however that shouldn’t diminish the fact that regardless of gender, cancer sucks.

One of the devices I was going to use in that particular blog involved listing off a whole load of words which have been attributed to the breast, only from a male perspective.  Moobs, mits, and mockers initially come to mind.

The problem is that I haven’t been able to think of a way to write that particular blog in a manner which is completely devoid of misogynistic undertones.  Even if I’m able to do so, who’s to say I won’t alienate the beautiful souls who have fought the good fight in the past and continue to do so today?  There’s no place for schadenfreude here, so the “Save the Moobies” blog will go no further than a passing reference here.

But I digress.

Tonight, I saw the movie 50/50.  It’s basically a story about a young man in his 20’s who has to come to grips with the fact that he has a 50% chance of survival from a cancer which is eating at his back.  Throughout the film, he feels alienated with his disease by his family and friends.  It’s only at the eleventh hour that he finds out his feelings of isolation are misplaced.

As I sat there watching the film, I couldn’t help but to ponder my own mortality.  I’m now middle aged.  My parents are each in their late 60’s and have each beat cancer.  I can’t say the same for my uncle, my maternal grandmother, or my great aunt.

Grandpa on Mom’s side had Alzheimer’s.  I know that’s not cancer, however it’s just as bad if not worse in my book.  People have beat cancer.  Alzheimer’s is undefeated.

Statistically speaking, the vehicle which will eventually do me in is pretty much laid out for me if the good Lord doesn’t see fit to take me in some other way such as a car accident or a heart attack.

Regardless of the method in which I eventually go, the only thing that provides any comfort to me is the fact that I’m a cog in the machine which is God’s Big Plan.  That particular plan is in full force and effect.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Nothing else.

 

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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