Dear Cancer, I Fucking Hate You
Dear Cancer,
I want to start this letter by saying that I fucking hate you. I have a lot of hate and anger towards you right now, and I have negative feelings that I haven’t felt in many years until you decided to come into my life. I am so angry I can’t stand it.
I hate you because I should be home lying in my comfortable, warm bed, but instead, I am lying in a cold hospital bed with an IV and monitors hooked on me. I hate it here.
I hate you because you are a thief who has wreaked havoc on my life. You have stolen something so precious to me — my joy. The day of my diagnosis was one of the hardest days I’ve ever had. I felt a heavy knife puncture my chest, and grief consumed every part of my being. I felt the kind of grief when someone you love dearly has died, but no one has — except you.
For the past several months, I have been mourning the loss of a woman who isn’t dead, but she isn’t alive either. I have been mourning the loss of the woman I used to be before you came into my life. Every morning when I look in the mirror, I only see dead eyes. I often wonder how I will manage to exist another day.
