The Big C

So my sister calls me yesterday and tells me she has skin cancer. It’s nothing serious, apparently she can pop in on her lunch hour, get some bit on her shoulder removed and then get regular checkups from then on. Finding out a younger sibling has any type of cancer though is a bit of a surprise blow. And my sister has had more bad luck over the years than anyone I know; which I, being the sensitive sort that I am, brought up.

“Geez Xmastime’s sister” I was shaking my head over the phone “this last 12 months, boy…you find out your douchebag husband was cheating on you, you get a divorce and now you find out you have cancer. Jesus.”

“Right?” she chortles incredulously horrified “AND I turned 30!!!!!!”

Nice to see she’s keeping things in perspective ;)

Also, nobody seems to have “cancer” anymore. It’s always skin cancer or liver cancer or pancreatic cancer etc etc. Used to be “Hear about Ryan? Got cancer.” To which we’d shake our heads solemnly “oh, man…cancer…jesus…the big c, huh?....” and sip our bourbon, planning the wake. Now it’s like “He’s got cancer? Really? What kind? Oh, endometrial, huh? Malignant? Did they catch it as a neoplasm? Oh sure, well yeah he’ll be fine, prolly start with some Monoclonal antibody therapy…” We’re all oncologists now.

Sigh. My sister: could win the lottery, but have the ticket eaten by her golden-doodle dog (another bad luck choice hiyooooooooo!!!!)