Also 68 gets younger and younger. I lost a good friend to cancer at 47. Really the best of guys, it is impossible to think ill of him and it wasn’t just cuz he has passed. Meanwhile we all know total jerks who skate through just fine. So sorry for your loss. I hope it draws his loved ones closer. And Fuck Cancer.
I am so sorry @anon61221983, and for everyone else’s losses as well.
Very sorry.
I lost my cousin to bowel cancer a couple of years ago. He was 30.
Fuck cancer.
Repeatedly. With a cactus.
On fire. I don’t care that it’s a succulent. Soak the damn thing in kerosene and light a match.
Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s much too soon to lose him, and in such a horrible way.
Sorry to hear that, my condolences.
And Fuck cancer!
Maybe we need a FUCK CANCER thread.
Just working with the travel agent to plan a “last chance to visit” visit because of my uncle’s untreatable colon and liver cancer.
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Aside from the basic awful situation–for all we know, he may decline a lot before I can even manage to get there–it also means a transatlantic + transcontinental journey, plus the hugely-disruptive-to-my-productivity working from a relative’s kitchen table for about a week or paying a high price for a coworking space.
“Fuck today” is just barely adequate.
I’ve watched this GIF several times now and I’m still amazed. That’s some Olympic-level flipping off right there.
More internet hugs your way. My aunt died of pancreatic cancer at around the same age. I never knew her through most of my life and we had finally connected just a few years before her diagnosis. It’s an extra shitty cancer because it so damn efficient.
Sorry for your loss.
Condolences and love to you and yours, @anon61221983 .
And of course… FUCK CANCER.
Just had to add a FUCK CANCER…
Of all things, you just reminded me of an Iron Maiden song:
Key lyrics: only the good die young, all the evil seem to live forever.
FC
My landlord has given me notice to quit. I have two months to find somewhere else to live and get my belongings moved. I guess I can do it, though I may have to borrow money to raise a new deposit. But my on-going depression and my mum’s recent death have left me all meh about everything.
My landlord’s a procreative-organ-of-your-choice: his first reaction on learning of my depression a couple of years ago was, “It’s obvious that you’re not happy here, Nelsie” (my emphasis) and things went downhill from there, with him telling me shortly after that he didn’t care about my illnesses (I also had pneumonia at the time), then a couple of weeks later telling me that he had always considered me a friend. He’s had an ongoing fantasy that I’ve been earning money and keeping the fact from the authorities, and for a while had been demanding to see my bank statements. The last couple of years have been inconstant stress and worry, with him threatening to evict me, then doing nothing for months, then inventing spurious reasons to inspect the flat, such as a seemingly non-existent requirement to check the electrical fittings.
I should be glad to leave, but I’ve been here for 16 years, I don’t know where I’m going to go, or how I’m going to get there, or what I’m going to do once I’m there.
Holy crap… where are you? Because that sounds completely illegal to me…