"Cancer, Conversation, Corners & Infinite Space"

     CANCER.

    There it is. A word that is the "Voldemort" of our times. Except it really isn't. When I was a kid cancer was a word that was only spoken in whispers and hushed tones. I know I've mentioned it like that along with everyone else. No more. I've recently been reminded that it has no power over things like faith, hope, and love.
     Last Friday a doctor told my wife she has cancer. We don't have a fight with cancer; cancer has a fight with us. I almost feel sorry for the poor wretch.

     In fact, I find myself thinking about what I would say to Cancer if it appeared personified before me.  I think the conversation might go something like this:

     

     "Can I help you?"

    "Yes, Mr. Nickels, I'm Cancer and I'm here to see your wife."

    "Oh, yeah, the doctors mentioned something about you." 

    "Did they tell you how many people I've killed?"

    "No need. I've gone to their funerals."

    "I know. I've seen you crying."

    "You're not the first to see me cry and you won't be the last. Why don't you take a really close look? Can you see me now? Take a good look at me being unimpressed with you."

    "Sure, you're tough now. They are always tough in the beginning."

    "Still standing here. Still unimpressed."

    "Whatever. Like I said before I'm here for your wife."

    "Heard you the first time. You couldn't take my mom. What makes you think you can handle my wife? I've watched her give birth to two babies. She's the toughest non-athletic person I know."

     "This is getting tiresome. I'd like to see your wife now."

     "Yeah, good luck with that."

     "Excuse me?"

     "No, I don't think I will."

     "What makes you think you can stop me?"

     "Others have."

     "I often come back."

     "Yeah, I know."

     "I can make hair fall out and I can take away dignity."

     "Actually, the chemo makes the hair fall out. Hair grows back. People buy wigs. And you can't take anything we don't willingly give to you."

     "Mr. Nickels, you almost sound as if you think you're in a fair fight."
    "You kinda sound like a poor man's Ricky Gervais. Any way,  we know you don't fight fair. As a matter of fact, we're counting on you not to fight fair."
    "I can cause malignancy. Malignancy is a lovely word don't you think?"
    "You know 'malignancy' has the name 'Nancy' in it. We know several people with that name. They're all really lovely. From now on that'll be your name. That okay with you, Nancy?"
     "Very funny, Mr. Nickels. I've done my homework on you."
      "That's nice, Nancy. What have you learned about me, Nancy?"
     "I know you played some football as a young man. I know you're a high school English teacher, that you like to write, you like to think of yourself as tough, clever, funny and you have an above average number of friends. I also know that you love your family. Yadda yadda yadda."
      "Very good, Nancy. You get a gold star. I don't think I'm all that tougher than anyone else, but I can quote Nietzsche, Voltaire, and Thoreau.  I can also name all 7 Heisman Trophy winners from Notre Dame. Oh, and  as for those friends and family of ours you mentioned, you might want to to study them a little bit."
      "Why would  I want to study any of your friends and family? The only possible interest they could hold for me might be as potential victims." 
    "Well, Goody Goody Gum-Drops! Nancy! Because they are coming out of the woodwork to take a shot at you. They're gonna help us hit you spiritually, chemically, and radioactively."
     "So we are going to continue with the 'Nancy' thing?"
     "Yes, Nancy."
     "Is 'radioactively' even a word?"
     "It is now, Nancy."
     "You know I can metastasize."
     "Yes, Nancy, I know. Did you know that my wife's friends can text and use Pinterest?"
     "Really? And will you please stop calling me 'Nancy'?"
     "Sorry, Nancy. They can text and use Pinterest at the same time. They sometimes do it while they're driving their cars. Kinda scary, don't you think, Nancy?"
     "I can spread to any corner of the body and I can hide in any corner of the body."
     "That's an interesting word choice, Nancy."
     "Oh, how so? Mr. Nickels?"
      "Well, Nancy, I'll bet you think of 'corners' as small  dark cramped spaces. Spaces you can hide in and where you can do your nasty work unseen. Isn't that what you think, Nancy?"
       "Stop calling me Nancy."
       "You know what a boxing ring is don't you, Nancy?"
       "Yes, Mr. Nickels."
       "It's interesting that they are actually square and they call them rings. Don't you think, Nancy?"
       "I never really thought much about it, Mr. Nickels, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you stop calling me 'Nancy'."
      "Okay, ass-hat, as long as you don't let the door hit you on the way out, but before you go let me tell you what cancer has taught me about corners. Corners aren't small. They are places of infinite space and in our corners we have plenty of room for anyone that wants to send up a prayer or a good thought. Anyone that wants to shake their fist at cancer or give it the middle finger is most welcome in our corner. I almost feel sorry for you. You see some of my people are from the West side and they don't fight fair. You're going to think you picked a fight with the Navy SEALS."
       "Yes, Mr. Nickels. I've heard it all before faith, hope, love, loyalty,  and the power of prayer. BLAH! BLAH! BLAH! Is there anything else?"
         "Just two words."
         "I'm listening, Mr. Nickels."
         "Fuck off, Mr. Cancer."

"Never stop fighting until the fight is done. Here endeth the lesson."