Cancer

Thirteen years ago today, my father-in-law died due to complications from non-Hodgkin lymphoma.  It was the end of a decade-long battle that ravaged his body, ended both his income-earning years and took a heavy toll on at his family.

 

They never knew whether the latest hospital stay would be the last.  Long hours were spent traveling to the hospital in Ottawa from Cornwall, where they lived.  They racked up hundreds of dollars in parking fees.

 

My father-in-law's mood shifted with the chemo and with the slow erosion of the life he had hoped to live.  The life he had worked so hard to build as an immigrant fleeing from Maoist China, a new Canadian working tirelessly to build a family business with his brothers and putting in long hours so as to support his family were all reduced to frail form that felt itself a burden more and more with each passing day.

 

Cancer does that to people.  It's a weight that bears down more and more with each passing day, year after year.  His family still carry the emotional scars of his slow decline and final passing.  The anxiety and depression that developed over time now impacts their every relationship. 

 

Whenever I hear that someone has been diagnosed with cancer, my heart goes out to them and their family.  It doesn't matter who they are, nor what they have done in their lives; cancer is a great equalizer that way.

 

It doesn't matter how strong you think you are - cancer is a disease of the community.  We can only beat it - and we have to beat it - if we fight it together.