Go Home, Cancer. You’re Drunk.

23 Oct

October 16, 2013. That’s the day my living nightmare began.

I don’t mean to be overly dramatic here, but until you experience being on the other end of the phone when your mother tells you that your brother has pancreatic cancer, well, you don’t know that that’s really the best way to describe it. A living nightmare. Things like this don’t happen to my family in real life. Things like this happen to OTHER people’s families. Not my brother. Not my 40 year old, good-hearted brother, who’s never done anyone any harm, who’s always been a little socially awkward, but one of the best people I’ve ever known, who’s smarter than he knows, and who’s never really gone out and done much living… This is not allowed to happen to him.

It’s crazy how little everything else becomes when something like this happens. The customer who calls into work complaining about a late delivery, friends complaining about their car problems and work stress… You want to shake them and scream in their face “MY BROTHER HAS CANCER, ASSHAT!!”. But that would be socially unacceptable, I suppose. It’d be cool if I could at least get away with a forehead thunk or something, though.

In the past week, I’ve cried more than I ever have, I’ve slept less than I ever have, I’ve talked to God and told him that he CANNOT, under any circumstances, take my brother yet, I’ve bargained with him and told him I will never ask for anything for myself ever again if he just makes my brother healthy, I’ve asked him to let me take my brother’s place, and I’ve also learned more about pancreatic cancer than I’ve ever cared to know. Crazy holistic remedies I would’ve laughed at 2 weeks ago suddenly become a viable option for helping to cure my brother. I’ve become a pancreatic cancer crusader, all in the hopes that I can somehow make a difference in saving my brother’s life. I’ve even made disgusting cancer-fighting soup that would probably make anyone lose their will to live. But by God, if there’s any chance that cancer can be cured with superfood soup, damn it, I’m gonna try. My brother is not allowed to go yet. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Luckily, my brother looks really, really good bald. Here’s to keeping positive, people. I have a feeling we’re going to beat this thing, because really, that’s all I can do. I know I’m a stranger, but just for a second, ask the big guy upstairs, or ask the universe, or ask whoever you believe in, to please let me keep my brother for many, many years to come. We need all the help we can get.Image


Posted by on October 23, 2013 in Cancer, Humor, Life


Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

2 responses to “Go Home, Cancer. You’re Drunk.

  1. dmdeluca17

    October 24, 2013 at 10:57 pm

    Praying for you and yours.


    • paulasg75

      October 25, 2013 at 12:45 am

      Thank you so much! Very, very kind of you. 🙂



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: