One thing I seem to always here from people in regards to cancer is, “Oh how I hate that word”. But isn’t that what it is, a word. A simple word that puts fear in everyone. Most people are lucky, they have never had it, seen what it does to ones body, mind. Or what it does to the family members. I myself have seen what cancer has done first hand. A haunting image I cannot easily forget. This is something I do not talk about. I don’t even bring it up, but it’s in the back of my find. Daily I am reminded of what cancer does. Who it takes, who it does not. Almost like playing Russian Roulette, click click click bang click click. My first family member who had cancer was my mom. She had stage four breast cancer and was not expected to live. But she did. The next person was my dad. A tall, skinny, bowlegged man. The man who use to make me stand against the wall to make me stand on my feet. The man who always asked me if I still like spinach. The man who would poke me with his fork while I tried to eat dinner. He was now slowly fading away. We took turns staying with him, I was elected to rub his feet. Did I want too? NO, Did I ? Yes and I didn’t care. If he wanted it, we did it. A few days before he died, my eldest son was talking too him on the phone, and he was crying and reciting to his grandfather the first rhyme he was every taught. it was the one grandpa told him. Leave it too my dad to teach a child a rhyme you hope to God he does not repeat at show and tell. My dad died on Thanksgiving. He did this on purpose as my mom says, because this was his favorite day of all times. Probably because he could poke me with his fork some more. No seriously it was because at this time of year the whole family would be together. It is hard to see what he had become. He was no longer my dad, but someone i barley recognized. remember the last time I spoke to my dad. I did not know if he could hear me, but I bent down and said thank you and that I will forever love him. He died the following day. A few years later my Great Uncle, got cancer, and yet again we meaning, my mom, grandma and great auntie, and I took care of a loved one, yes we knew what was going to be the outcome. Did we care that we would be faced with cancer and death again? No, we never thought of it that way. It was a loved one needed us, and wanting to be home. I don’t hate the word, I hate what it stands for. What it does to those effected. I have never understood why after all this time they have not come up with a cure. Is the money we donate going to that? All that and no progress. It makes me sad, frustrated, yes and even angry. Those who have not had to go through any of this, count your blessings, because once you go through it, it changes you, sometimes for the good and not so good.