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Saturday, April 20, 2013


When you're a cancer patient, people give you stuff. Everyone does it. Doctors, social workers, distant relatives, teachers. Everyone. If diseases could be cured by accumulated detritus, cancer would be defeated easily by an army of gift baskets. Here's a small sample of the cancery things stashed around my apartment:

- Vicodin (you had to know this would be first. I am a House fan after all.)
- Pink things
- Headscarves/Hats
- Antibiotics (I may be hording these a la Doomsday Preppers)
- Chemo-covering make up (ineffective)
- Books (unread)
- Movies (unwatched)
- Button down shirts
- Blankets
- Pamphlets

In spite of, or perhaps because of, this influx of goodies, I've been feeling the urge to purge. Recently, after coming home from a baby shower, I gave away all of my supplies from when I was teaching preschool art classes (paging Dr. Freud...). I guess someone could say something about cancer teaching me to live more simply or be less materialistic. Yeah, but no.

The only thing cancer has taught me is that you should try really hard not to get cancer. Unless you're dying to start a hideous scarf collection. In which case, go for it.

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