Cancer. The word itself is somewhat ugly. The way the two c’s sound as they phonetically contradict each other. In astrology, Cancer’s are supposed to be harmonious, yet emotional. My mother is a Cancer. I was always glad to be a creative Aquarius.
The first disease that I ever obsessed over was cancer. So I guess it’s only natural that the idea of it still haunts me. I can remember my very first burst of hypochondria incredibly clearly; the entire image is solidified into my brain. I was stacking chairs in my fourth grade classroom when my mind wandered to focus on the hairs that were naturally falling out of my scalp. I was only eight, so I didn’t know that this was normal. What I did know was that I had previously watched a movie where a girl was bullied for having “cancer” after she went bald. So I assumed that’s what I had.
My babysitter later informed me that cancer patients turn bald due to their treatments, not the illness itself. This gave me some temporary relief.
Later on, throughout the years, I have thought myself to have breast cancer, eye cancer, blood cancer, bone cancer, brain cancer, ovarian cancer, skin cancer, stomach cancer, lung cancer, mouth cancer, throat cancer, leg cancer, cervical cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer. It always comes back to cancer.
I hated cancer when it killed my grandmother, I hate that cancer is a sun sign, I hate the word, I hate the illness, I hate the thought of it. And I’m always thinking of it.