Last week I was corresponding with Amy via email about the funeral arrangements and at some point she described her surprise that another of our childhood associates also recently died of cancer.
I was sad and surprised, but not shocked. This was not someone I was at all close to, though I did harass his brother quite extensively with my ET Lives plots back in the day. How many families in my immediate circle from that rural childhood now officially have a member diagnosed with cancer – or dead from the disease – or multiple experiences of both?
It might be easier to count how many haven’t: something like zero.
Yet, please recall, the official government story is that there are no cancer clusters.
They were telling me that on the cancer ward when nobody could explain why I had a virulent form of the disease only seen in people subjected to high rates of radiation – while all the other beds were filled with refugees from Chernobyl.
You know what? I’m still a little bit suspicious.
Righteous anger is definitely easier than grief, but I’m too exhausted for rage these days.