The Cancer Complaint Line

Recently my close friend called to say her mother, a cheerful, sweet woman of 51 died of Cancer. That would be the second friend of mine who lost a parent to Cancer this year.

I wish I had someone to blame. Someone to yell at and abuse and call a ruthless, selfish imbecile. I wish Cancer were a person. I wish I could reach Cancer by phone, that Cancer had a 1-800 number.

I'd rather speak to Cancer in person of course, but at very least I wish I could rail at some apologetic, meek secretary who'd say, "I'm sorry. Cancer's not here. He's very busy at the moment."

"I know," I'd yell, and slam the phone down.