Lost.

Dear Cancer,

I know I'm not the first to say this to you, and I won't be the last, but FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOU.
I cannot adequately express how much I hate you with every fiber of my being. You are a sneaky, dirty, rotten, evil fucking thing. You don't play fair, and while I have no illusions that life is fair, I still seethe knowing that you sneak up on unsuspecting people every damn day and ruin their lives. FUCK YOU.
There's just something so frustrating about having nowhere to lay blame for a loved one's illness. I can't curse a person who committed a crime, or a company who exposed her to chemicals, or even an idiotic accident like a circus tent collapse. I only have cancer to be mad at, and that's so incredibly unsatisfying. I can't hit cancer, or kick it, or punch it in the balls like it deserves. All I can do is sit here, 1,000 miles away and cry, and scream, and lose sleep. I know this isn't helping, and it's killing me that I can't do anything that would be helpful. I can pray for guidance, but I don't want to do that. I want to kick the shit out of the very thing that will keep my daughter from knowing her Great Aunt. I want to tear it apart into shreds then put it back together so I can do it again. And again. And again.
I've never been this close to it. When my grandma had it earlier this year, she had surgery, had radiation, and said adios to it. When my other grandparents died from it I was too young to really know what was going on. When friends have had their loved ones fighting it and dying from it, I watched from an emotionally safe distance, but this is different. Even when Tim's grandma died from it I was safe emotionally. I hurt for him and his family, but I was distanced. This time, though, I'm not, and I don't know how to handle it.
All I can think to say is FUCK YOU, CANCER, and even that, I know, is useless.
I feel so defeated, and I want to fight for her. I want to do something that will help. I want to say something that will help. But there is nothing, is there?

Cancer, you may be able to take her from us, but you can't take all of the memories we have. You can't take the car ride to Tucson when she told me about WWII, or the trip to California (including the drive by a murder scene), and you can't take the books I read because of her, or the amazing, wonderful, intelligent cousin I got from her.

So FUCK YOU, CANCER. We still win.