Off The Leash

A couple times a week, I just write whatever first comes to my mind.  Kinda taking the leash of the mind and seeing where it goes, you might say.  I’ve never actually published those posts.  Until now.  I thought it might be an interesting series, called Off The Leash.   And here’s how that goes:

I saw a picture of Patrick Swayze on the cover of some tabloid or other this weekend.  He looked thin, sick, and old.  The same day I read part of an interview with Ryan O’Neal about Farrah Fawcett where he talks about her being bedridden and having lost her hair.  Both are suffering with – and will likely die sooner than later from – cancer.  In the last year, I’ve lost friends and family to cancer.  Cancer scares the shit out of me, scares me to no end because with every passing year it just seems so inevitable that someone else I know is going to get it.  Hell, right now someone I love might have it and not even know.  Not even know.  The healthiest people in the world can get cancer, and people that practically put out a welcome sign for it are never afflicted.  Even though we know a lot of the causes and risk factors and choices that can increase the likelihood of cancer, it’s still so random.  And terrifying.

I think the reason I wanted to write this was some sort of cosmic vaccine.  It seems that the things we don’t explicitly acknowledge – whether through ignorance or conscious denial or whatever – are the things that tend to bite us in the ass.  Maybe by acknowledging cancer I can somewhat inoculate myself against it.  Dumb thought, but what the hell.  I already quit smoking, drinking, and I eat a whole lot better than I ever have.  No sense in not taking another precaution, regardless of the validity…

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