My great-great-grandmother, Mamie, lived up until my senior year of high school. For the length of the time we shared the earth, she lived in a house down on 21 with a man I have always known only as “Jim”, who I always assumed to be my great uncle. Mamie died in 1995, and following that, Jim lived by himself for a few years, moving from the rickety old vine infested shack the two had shared into a single-wide just adjacent, which was subsequently adjoined by a thicket of blackberry bushes, but soon age and illness took the better of him, and he moved in with my mother. Into my room.Cancer is the second leading cause of death in the United States. Half of all men and one-third of all women in the US will develop cancer during their lifetimes.American Cancer Society

I finally returned my mother’s call today, she says she was only just checking up on me, and saying hello…but my mother, bless her heart, has a preternatural ability to call when my chakras are out of balance. So small talk, bullshit, blah blah…and then she unleashes Cerebus. “Jim is going into surgery soon.” My reply: “Why?” Her’s: “Well, didn’t I tell you? They found out that Jim has cancer.”

My family breaks down into two classes of terminal illness. In this way, the two clans possess an inner order, through death, which they fail to achieve within their behaviors. My father’s side is Coronary Heart Disease (CHD). My mother’s kin is best known for the Big C. My grandmother, grandfather, great-grandmother, and great-grandfather all suffered its effects, and now, its getting Jim too.

Sorry to go on about it…I don’t, I mean, I can’t really think of what to say, or to do, other than write and get my feelings out of my system somehow. I guess I just need a friend right now. A companion other than this webpage.

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