Cancer's letter to Tina

Dear Tina:

I know you hate me. Everyone hates me (and all my brothers and sisters). I've been called many names: a parasite, a mutant, evil, diabolical, foul, malevolent, ungodly, vicious and vile. I don't care. Names don't hurt me.

From the moment you were born, dear Tina, I knew I'd be making my home in you. It was just a matter of time. I couldn't wait to start producing my army of mutant cells to march throughout your ovaries and abdomen. Lucky for me, I was able to start early, so I had a firm hold by the time you caught me at age 42.

I'm just sorry you discovered me when you did and started injecting that poisonous chemotherapy into your body. You allowed your skillful surgeon cut away the lovely tumours I'd grown. I could have taken over your entire body, but you thwarted my plans.

I hid and grew in the dark recesses of your body because I knew you'd fight back. Oh yes, you hurt me with those six chemo treatments. I could feel my strength being sapped each time the infusion hit me. You killed off my mutant soldiers.

You're stronger than I anticipated, Tina, and you have an amazing support system. You didn't just curl up, cry and accept your mortality. Instead you drew on your reserves of strength to fight with determination. I hate it when people do that. I also despise your strong support people because they also make my domination goals harder, if not impossible.

With some people I inflict, I can plunge them into depression and therefore weaken their immune systems so I can keep a toehold on them, even during treatment. But even though you experienced a roller coaster of emotions and sometimes fell into the blackness of depression, overall you've remained positive and optimistic. You're emotionally strong and also have a great group of family and friends who help strengthen your mental health. As a result, most of the time, you believe you can beat me. You have no idea how much that weakens me.

Boo hoo! You don't want to leave your loving husband. Cry me a river, your kids need you. So sad, you love your friends and your life. I don't care. I wanted you and couldn't care less about those around you.

In your letter, you talked about all these good lessons I'd taught you. I couldn't give a rat's ass if you gained anything valuable from me. In fact, those "live for today" and "remember to tell people you love them" that blow sunshine up my ass annoy me because they make you more positive and stronger. They help you gather people around you, encourage you to exercise and get on with life, make you laugh and love - all the things I hate and negatively affect me. I wish you could have just been miserable, angry and hateful.

You may have squashed me this time, but I'm not going to stop fighting with you. Maybe one day, your defences will be down again and I'll try again. But now that you know how I work, you and those doctors at the cancer clinic are going to be watchful. I hope I can establish myself in you again one day but unfortunately, I know you're not going to stop fighting me.

Until we tango again,
Cancer