I hate cancer

I'm sure my readers agree.  It's so easy to say "I hate cancer."  
Most of us have relatives we've lost to cancer.  None of mine really deserved it, and yours probably didn't either.  OK, maybe they smoked too much or drank too much at some point in their lives.  That didn't make them bad people, and most of them did nothing to make them deserve such an end.  

Every once in awhile, something happens that reminds me just how much I hate cancer, and I hate it all over again, even more.  I take all the hatred I have for the people who bombed the World Trade Center and later flew airplanes into it, and the hatred I have for Hitler, and I focus all of that on cancer. 

We visited a couple of relatives today and listened to a man tell us, "From what the doctors tell me, I'm going to die.  It's in my bones." 

Then he went on to say he wasn't sure just how long he should go on fighting, considering that the cancer seems to be progressing and the fight is costly and maybe futile.  He doesn't want his struggle to leave his wife penniless if there's no chance he will survive.  

Dear Lord, nobody should have to make decisions like that.  But of course, it's part of life.

Since my daddy died as a result of cancer, I know about the other questions that nobody wants to put into words:  "Will I suffer?"  "How long will I have to suffer?"  

I don't know how else to say it.

I hate cancer.