CA

The sickening irony of growth causing death.
I've seen it.
A cousin lost as a teenager, the fear of recurrence in the eyes of an imprisoned man. The metastasis to the liver shining bright on a CT scan. My mother finishing up her radiation treatment in Boston.
The phone call that you don't forget.
The scrambling through websites that it prompts.
The numbers, statistics, percentages flying at you like bullets.

Then more irony in the way we fight it. Chemicals and radiation used to fight something perhaps caused by the same. Intangible hope and prayers directed at all-too tangible cells.

The fight that it requires but the calm that it demands.

The way it hits you. And the reaction that collision sets off.

I'm proud of you Mom, et al.