Calling out the Big C

So why do I still struggle to actually say the word without a convenient slang term to fall back on, as emphasized by the choice of title for this piece? If I am honest it still scares me, and I have found it one of the most difficult subjects to talk about. For me it even eclipses death. I guess that many of you reading this will also struggle to comprehend what a sufferer will feel like unless you have trodden the same path. Having said that, both of my personal experiences of cancer were different, and it wasn’t until I was in the eye of the storm that I realized there are in excess of two-hundred types.

Because of the colossal emotion and daunting statistics, I had decided to file away this enormous disorientation, preferring the convenient comfort of the mantra, “It may never personally touch me.” But who am I kidding? A coin toss away is hardly a satisfactory statistic. And if I was lucky, what about those people, including my friends, who weren’t? Didn’t I at least need to better support them, rather than hiding behind a pathetic synonym? Nonetheless, there were many reasons to procrastinate. Until I met Tina.

I’ve known her as a work colleague for a little over two years. Elegant, vivacious, confident, and a match for anyone, especially any pompous blokes who would dare berate her. We quickly developed a professional relationship. COVID-19 couldn’t chip much away from her character even though our association became virtual, via Zoom and Microsoft Teams. Then she disappeared for