I can't tell you how many times in my life I've been convinced I have cancer. The infected hair follicle that I was convinced meant I had leukemia. The headache that lasted 3 days that had me convinced I had a brain tumor. Ovulation pain that had me convinced I had ovarian cancer. For someone who hates to go to doctors, I've sure put up with a lot of anxiety to avoid going to them. And meanwhile, I come from a family where we're so mean the Goddess does't want us and keeps us here a long, long time. My mother has survived 18 years after lung cancer surgery. You know what the 5-year survival rate for lung cancer is? 15%. And Mom is still kicking 18 years later. And still smoking. I'm serious. Don't fuck with us, because we are made out of tough stuff.
So after obsessing about cancer my entire life, what do I do now? Work on oncology clinical trials. Don't ever let it be said that the Goddess (or Jehovah, if you like) doesn't have a snarky sense of humor.
So after watching Marc Maron on Conan at the top of this post (actually not pissing off the right, more's the pity), don't you dare tell me you've never gone through exactly what he describes. In fact, tell me about when you did.
Labels: cancer, comedy, Marc Maron