I Hate Cancer- Speak

I am neither a "victim" nor a "survivor." Victimhood is for whiners and say what you will about me, I am not a whiner. A bitcher maybe, but not a whiner. Survivors are for events of human action or inaction whether intentional such as wars or Nazi death camps or unintentional events such as auto accidents. So far as I know, nobody passed the cancer bug onto me, so I am not a survivor of anything. This leads us directly into the next term I hate, which is "cure."

The doctors, no matter learned in their specialty or subspecialty will not "cure" me. When you are talking about cancer, living five years (after diagnosis, not after treatment begins, so as to inflate the Rx's self-congratulatory studies) is considered "cured." Of course, just like George Orwell's Animal Farm, some cancers are more equal than others, and therefore if I make it to May 10, 2008, (two years after diagnosis of lung cancer) I am cured of lung cancer. Doesn't
really matter if I buy the farm the next day, I've been cured, dammit.

Giving you "medicine." Any doctor, nurse or anyone else who says this ought to be smacked. It's poison you're giving me, and you and I both know it. There's a reason you're standing on one side of the six inch thick lead door and I'm on the other. There's a reason humans who abuse every other substance known to man, natural or man made, aren't stealing carboplatin from hospitals. I understand the theory that maybe this stuff will kill the cancer before I die of poisoning, but don't insult my intelligence and call it "medicine."