So I may officially be the worst son ever! Grab the popcorn, kids. So my mom has cancer *uncalled-for rimshot*. One of the first few thoughts that the honorable son of the year had was "I fucking hate my life."
MY life.
She's got the cancer, and I hate my life.
And then, to make things even worse, I went and talked about that private thought on the internet! Did things get a little meta just now? Anyway, the doctors say the cancer is curable, with a surgery that cancer is making all too routine these days. And a friend told me that it's a big thing that they're willing to say it's curable. I guess doctors should know better than to throw "curable" around lightly.
But it's just a little much for me. Grief for my wife is still attached to me like a tum-
...maybe I won't make that joke. Suffice it to say, my mind has no shortage of things running around it. I hope that it's as simple as they say it is, and my mom gets the surgery and boom! she becomes a badass cancer survivor. But I think that, if anything, grief has prepared me mentally better than I would be otherwise for this news. It's something. I forget if it was Confucius, or maybe Shakespeare, or possibly Socrates who famously said "fuck cancer."
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I hope you brought enough comment to share with the whole class!