Look around the stadium, the restaurant, the dinner table. Someone that you see, whose unknowing glance you may catch, could be the next victim. The next poor unfortunate soul to hear the "C" word and start down a life-altering path. And the crazy part is that they are no more aware of it than you are. You see, the most insidious part of cancer is that it doesn't hurt, so we often aren't even aware that it's breeding unchecked in our system. It will fool you with a seemingly unrelated passel of symptoms that on their own aren't noteworthy, and may not even be obvious in the aggregate, but become crystal clear in retrospect, when the discovery/diagnosis in revealed.
Knowing this, we can't live our lives constantly looking over our shoulders; afraid to eat, drink, do or live - in fear that any one thing could be the trigger that redirects one into the line designated with the big red "C." It's a long, slow process that brings us to the eventuality that is cancer.
As I look around (especially at the Clinic), I wonder: are they the patient, are they the caregiver, are they cured? And as I stride healthfully through the lobby and out the onc’s office door, do they wonder too? I don't look like the guy with cancer, but then I am the guy with cancer. I almost feel like stopping, surveying the room, picking the most desperate looking patient, and offering myself as a ray of hope for them - as the prospect of a positive prognosis.
We don't know who's next and in some respects it doesn't matter. For the second before "awareness" we're just humming along trying to live life as best we can. And for the second after, we are now that person with cancer who is the newest statistic and member of the club that everyone is trying to get out of. It's impossible to predict, but increasingly more probable to survive. A big amen from me on that.
