I hate cancer. There's just no other way to state it. Hate hate hate hate hate.
I hate how it's part of your own body, so you kind of end up hating your own body if you have it, or hating the body of someone you love if it's someone else suffering. It must be horrible to know that there is something inside you slowly killing you, as if your own body has turned against you.
I hate all the war dialogue that goes with the public face of having cancer: "fighting", "surviving", "losing the battle". And there's a lot of judgy stuff about who wins this fight too. Subtext: only losers lose, and by losing what people really mean is die.
I understand that everyone has to die of something and I don't expect to live forever. But my personal experience so far has been younger people getting cancer and dying of it. Sub-70 I mean. In the last month I've had a lovely neighbour diagnosed with it, a woman I knew well through work die of it, the second anniversary of the death of my father (whose death came about through a complication from surgery to cut it out), and a close friend of my partner's is likely to pass away from terminal cancer shortly. None of them have been what I would call old.
And none of them have been bad people either. It's the whole "when bad things happen to good people" injustice all over again. I'm not dealing with it very well, especially when I consider that so many of these people with cancer, still living or killed by it, are close to my son. He won't remember his Grandad, and he may well not remember any of the others either if/when they die too. It just seems so unfair.