We're not sure if we're angry at the world, angry at doctors, or angry at cancer.
The pet's cousin found out on Monday that his cancer was "unconducive to surgery". You see, he had gone in for treatment one month and some weeks ago, and that specialized treatment was supposed to be a zinger. It was supposed to make him well enough for surgery, but when he went in for his check-up, his numbers had gone from 9 (indicating a possible state of remission) to 4000.
The pet's cousin is turning 21 in two weeks. We're thinking of sending him some of the finest alcohol man has to offer.
It's not right. It's not fair. It's all shades of wrong.
And yet, there it is.
"It is what it is," as the pet's dad would say.
Stupid, beeping cancer.
Cancer, consider yourself Number One on my Litter List. I've put you on notice! (Oh yes, I'm making a Litter List for my sidebar so everyone knows how much you suck also. Don't think I won't!) I'm sure other things will eventually make their way onto the list, but you can have it all to yourself for right now. I'm too pissed at you to make room for other things. You're getting all my angst.