I've decided, in the deluded spirit of making resolutions in the new year, to try and change an aspect of my lifestyle; I'm going to dip my toe in the water of an attempt to be kind to myself. My problem is I can't tell when I'm being nice to myself and when am I just being a lazy pig, so I never stop with the self-flagellation to keep going. If I thought about what's the greatest thing I could do for myself, I'd tell you it was 'to never have to get out of bed'. I'm my happiest when I have a virus and have an excuse to lie there without the nagging mother in my brain screaming, "Get your ass up and out".
The expression is often used to express regret or in a context of celebration of the deceased, however, it carries ulterior implications, even if they are unintended by the user. Describing people to have 'lost' to cancer suggests that they could have done something differently and the outcome could be changed.
It is vital that UK students are aware that there is a new freely available Meningitis C booster, which they need before they head off to university... New students are at increased risk of encountering the bacteria that cause meningococcal disease because they are often living in busy halls of residence and in close contact with other new students during fresher's week.
I look healthy. Healthy enough, anyway. And that's just great, but here's the thing. For the better part, my outward appearance comes with a sense of 'got away with it', and how very empowering that can feel. But the physical disabilities lurking beneath the scars and lumps are never far from the surface...
We're talking about actual human beings existing in the twilight of grief and primal fear that comes with cancer. And if a lung, bowel, or pancreatic cancer patient feels, in that horrific state of mind, that it'd be easier to have a more socially acceptable cancer like breast cancer... We can't judge that. What are we doing, policing the private fears of terminally ill people now?