Last night I dreamt that I took Lola to the vet, and the vet (who was a real bitch and wouldn’t let me in to see Lola) said that Lola had cancer, and that she would die soon, unless they gave her some sort of medicine, but that would only delay her inevitable death to March (which is past, but this is a dream after all). And that medicine would be €7,000, which I have never had at one time in my entire life.
I pushed into the vet’s operating room and threw my arms around Lola and started sobbing with all of my heart and soul, and it was this sobbing in my sleep that woke me up. Luckily Lola was right next to me, so I could cuddle her and rock myself back to sleep, but remnants of the dream are still with me today like sticky cobwebs in my hair.
I don’t have too many crippling fears. Not spiders, or snakes, or sharks, or heights, or the dark, but the one thing that terrifies me out of every thing in the entire world is cancer. (Second would be metal grates in the street, but thats totally different.)
The other week I went to the ’Bodies’ exhibition, where they plasticize the cadavers and peel them apart so you can see the inner workings of the human body- the muscles and bones and brains and nerves and stuff. There, in a display case, I saw what cancer really, really looks like in its physical form. They had a big lump of it just sitting there, the size of a fist. About five minutes later, I got hot and cold flashes, had to lay down on a bench and puked.
I have had nightmares about Lola before. Like her getting run down by a bull. But this one was really, really bad, because it could really happen, my sweet little girl could get cancer (wait- can dogs get cancer?) and then I would just die for sure of heartbreak.
I think its the element of surprise of the disease that really gets me. Old, young, male, female, black, white, hispanic, asian, from the sun, from certain foods, from proximity to bad things, in this body part, that body part, here, there… Its everywhere and it can affect anyone and there is not one damn thing you can do about it.
And here comes the summer and everyone is raring to go out and lay in the sun, and me? I’m dreading it. My grandmother got skin cancer on her leg, and so that means that I am susceptible to it, and that means that I will wear sunscreen in big gloopy gobs all summer and remain as pasty white as the day I was born, and thats OK by me.
Bring on the spiders anyday, but don’t even speak to me about cancer.
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