A Warrior's Ode to Cancer

A poem, dear reader: 

Dear Cancer. Fuck you. Sincerely, the Addiverse.

I write that Pulitzer-prize-worthy poem to honor our friend who is facing treatment for two kinds of breast cancer. Tomorrow, she is having a double mastectomy. She will have a year's worth of chemotherapy. Radiation is yet to be determined.

Not one kind of breast cancer. Two.

You know what, double cancer?

She is fierce.
She is brave.
She is a warrior.
You  have met your match.
She will stare you down and eat your for breakfast.
You will be sorry.
You will lose.
She.Is.A.Warrior.

I'm going to say it again and again and again: our friend is a warrior. 

A WARRIOR! Not a cutesy-saying-on-a-bracelet warrior. Not a cliche saying kind of warrior. She is a run-you-over-like-a-truck warrior.

I would not mess with her, cancer. See, she has a whole pack of warriors standing right behind her. She's bad enough news. But, us? We're the things of which nightmares are made.

We will help her and we will sit with her and we will do whatever it takes. We will take her to the doctor, the healer, the local bar, to the bathroom. W will hold her hand and we will hold her heart and we will hold on tightly as she kicks your sorry ass.

I have no use for pink ribbons nor do have any use for you, cancer. But, since you are here bothering our friend, I shall wear a pink ribbon or a pink bracelet or goddamn pink socks. We are in the fight--with her and for her.

Her daughter has made a spread sheet with days and times we can help. You know no one is messing around when there is a spreadsheet to be had.

I believe in
Reiki
energy
angels.
I believe in
happy-spinning chakras
prayer
chanting
meditation and
the use of chocolate.
I believe in
doctors
medicine
shamans
ice cream
love
friends and
the Universe....

But, mostly? I believe in HER. 

And, THAT, dear cancer, should scare you the most.

Tomorrow is surgery. The next day, the healing can and will begin. Do whatever works for you, cancer. Just know that it isn't going to work.

She is a warrior, standing with warriors.

She is a warrior with a spreadsheet!
       
I end where I started. With my poem.

Dear Cancer. Fuck you. Sincerely, the Addiverse.
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Best wishes, dear friend!