Today would have been my only sister’s 60th birthday. She was funny and sweet and loving, and except for our mother, she was the best mom who ever lived. We are all late-bloomers; she left a 13 and 15 year old, who have now splendidly grown up because she gave them a loving solid basis and because her ex, their dad, quit doing meth and defied her wildest expectations and did a wonderful job raising them the rest of the way. They are cool as could be, though their dad now has Stage 4 colon cancer himself. Please get your checkups, esp. if you have a family history. And good riddance to January 2014.
Of Angels on Earth and Nazi Prison Guards:
The worst word in the English language is not “death”, “disease”, or “heartbreak.” It’s not “loneliness”, “murder”, “evil”, “divorce”, or “separation.” It’s not even “cancer”, because that can sometimes be sent into remission for many, many years. The worst word in the English language is, rightfully so, a word that’s so cumbersome to pronounce that most people who refer to it do so by its abbreviated version. The worst word in the English language is “metastasize”, which is what cancer does when it moves out of its host organ or point of origin, and it is commonly referred to by health care professionals as “mets.”
In 2003, during Thanksgiving week, my only sister found out that she had breast cancer, cancer that had become stage 4, or metastatic. I believe that she was given 2-10 years at that time, as an estimated…
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