Relay for Life

As most of you might know I’m not much of a fan of the Relay for Life thingy since I find it highly hypocritical by the Big Pharma Corps to beg for donations in order to continue their research for a cure. These corporations are raking in billions of dollars, use all the dirty tricks in the book to avoid paying taxes and don’t give a flying wet towel about your life … or mine. It’s a shakedown dontcha think? In my eyes that’s highly sarcastic and inhumane. And it’s soooo very American. And that’s why I only half-heartedly support the RfL in Second Life.


And then I read Patricia de Chenier’s blog where she thanks all who relayed and I stumble about sentences like “a fight we never picked – with cancer”, and something in me goes Gulps. 😮 And I’m feeling vulnerable and weak and all I want is clarity and the good feeling of being clean and free of cancer. You know part of the reason for our annual trips to Jerryland are the medical checkups. Contrary to our situation in South Africa, here we are impeccably insured with the public health care system, so we use it mainly to visit the dentist and the GP … but also to have a preventive medical checkup for cancer.

I was at the gynaecologist just yesterday, and my utrasonic testing looked quite pretty, as she said. Nevertheless I must go in on Monday again to discuss my blood tests with her … and now I’m kinda nervous. Lost my older sister to cancer in 2005 and my mom just had  a huge growing tumour and half her intestines removed in a major operation and my dad suffers from skin cancer, so I’m kinda nervous as you might understand. It sucks!

I was always like “Pfff, cancer is for other people, not for me”. But in these days, hanging in between fear and uncertainty, I find it very easy to understand why people are flocking together and trying to do just about anything in the vague hope for help and a cure.

Anyway, it’s just Thursday morning now, and I’ll receive the resluts of my blood test only on Monday. What to do now? Best not thinking about the implications, about the possibility I might be one of those “others”, one of the cancer patients. Oh fuk, I’m afraid. Like really afraid. Oh. Arrrgs! Too late, bitch. Too fukn late. Not just thinking but blogging about the big bad C. Is that a bad omen? Do I fuk with destiny now? Must I delete this post before sending it off? Is it too late to become religious and pray my little heart out? Do I have to pay church tax? Must I read the bible or the qur’an or talmud? Jeezuz what to do now? Maybe I should just stop the nervous babble and rambl…

I guess Patricia would prefer to blog about planes in SL



  1. I just read your thoughts, and am stunned. Cancer patient-hood is the one neighborhood I hope you don’t move into.

    That said, praying’s fine if it helps. Defiance works, too. I snapped out of my separate peace with cancer back in 2014, when I joined my first clinical trial of a new treatment for my rare cancer. My thoughts at the time were
    “You’ve taken over too much of my life. Die,motherfucker!”

    It’s been just under four years since then, and just over three years since my last series of that treatment – which just got FDA approval this January, and I expect to have another series this year. I also was privileged to be a patient in a clinical trial for a much more sensitive scan for cancers like mine.

    Big Pharma’s greedy. Don’t tie the American Cancer Society to that. I’m right now in a comfortable, clean room in the city where my cancer is being treated, to save me a long ride back and forth to my home each day for two weeks – in one of the American Cancer Society’s “Hope Lodges”. I’ve had considerable help from ACS with lodging since 2013, when I decided to seek clinical trials to treat my cancer, which meant lots of travel away from home.

    Many people I’ve spoken to here have had many years added to their lives (over fifteen in one case) because of the help the American Cancer Society gives. They’re the good guys in this picture.

    American and multinational drug companies, while not free of guilt, spend literally billions gambling that new drugs they develop for cancer will survive clinical trials and be approved by the US and European governments. A little more than half the time, they lose. I wish drug development economics were different, but they are what they are.

    You’re very much in my prayers, Orca.

    Liked by 1 person

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