Thursday, October 13, 2011

Brain Cancer

It's been so long since I've posted on here. Too long, in fact.

I promise, there are reasons behind it all.

As all two of my "followers" may know, my very dear friend Hunter was recently diagnosed with brain Glioblastoma. Only about 1 in 4 live longer than 2 years after their diagnosis, and an even more ridiculously small amount live past that. Needless to say, that and school have been taking up a lot of my spare time lately--something that I have precious few of, anyway.

It gets you thinking a lot about dark stuff--cancer. A lot of heavy, existential stuff that tends to crawl into your brain and pry it apart bit by bit, like a starfish going after a meal. Or the cancer itself. Just what is fair? Just what caused it? Just why did it happen right now? Things like that. You never really find the answers, of course. You never will. Thousands of people who were blessed with a whole lot more intelligence than I have are paid disgustingly grandiose amounts of money to just sit and think about these questions--and they're probably just as close to understanding the answer as I am.

What I do know, however, is that life's not fair. It's indiscriminate in who it takes and who it leaves, as long as it can bloat itself upon the trials and misfortunes of many unfortunate misfits. That's a rather bleak outlook on it, I know, but I guess it's hard to remain optimistic in times like these. Hard to remain objective when friends--when family--are being pulled away so rapidly. 2 years. That's not a long time, you know. Think about what you were doing 2 years ago. Now think about what you'd be doing if you knew that by this time--by tomorrow, even--you'd be drawing your last dying breath, having spent much of your time in and out of hospitals, your hair slowly wilting away from your body, along with your strength and ability to function as a normal, healthy adult. You can't run, you can't fight--not from this. It's a staggering concept to grasp. One that I don't think I'd do well to dwell on for too long.

Love you Hunter. I don't know how you manage to remain so upbeat, so optimistic, so--normal--through all of this. I hope so much to someday to be half the person you've always been.