Fuck Cancer
That's what the_ogre posted on FaceBook last week, and I agree with him even more now than then.
Since Burning Man, a remarkable woman I used to date has died from it (stormyaustin, breast cancer); a current sweetie has had a second operation to deal with a tumour, including reconstructive surgery; I've found out that friends in England and Australia have it (colon and breast, respectively), and a friend has found out her husband is going to die from it soon. And just to show that the universe has a sick, dark sense of humour, while I was out with said friend last Friday (who only found that out that week, incidentally), I got a call from my best mate,
GRiPZ, to say that he also has 'months, not years' to live, because of his stomach cancer. What the fuck?! (And did I mention that I got a job offer the same day? I'm still not sure what to make of Friday, really I'm not.)
I just wanted to rant about that. The upshot is that I'll be visiting Australia this southern summer after all; exactly when depends entirely on what GRiPZ wants. I posted about this on FaceBook yesterday and received a lot of sympathy, which indeed makes it easier to deal with the news, but of course it doesn't make it go away. (And that is not a plea for more sympathy; I know you all know it sucks. Thanks.)
I never did find out what the_ogre's post was in reference to. I hope everything's okay, mate.