Cancer, tears on my cheek
He was only 4 years old. Brain tumor. A battle lost before it even began, but a battle fought every day. My colleague, having learned of her beloved child’s cancer, took a leave of absence from work. She wanted to give her all to her child. Follow-ups with doctors. Hospital appointments. Silent tears. The once loving looks between spouses became empty, glassy. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but how can you believe in love, in the future, when cancer takes away what is most precious to you?
I, a colleague who is livid, helpless, powerless in the face of my friend’s suffering. Intolerable suffering that cannot be shared, that we witness, and that often makes us angry. My other colleagues and I get together and work for her as best we can. Knowing how unbearably difficult life has become, we all start making meals for her family. I suddenly become a delivery person for necessities, a bearer of moral support. I ring the doorbell of this home darkened by tragedy. I feel the pain of the woman who is overwhelmed by sadness. I feel the sense of injustice that dwells within her. Then one day, nothing. He’s gone.
Several years later, cancer strikes again. It is malignant. It strikes where I least expect it. A colleague, a dear friend, an accomplished woman in her early thirties, in perfect health. A mother of three young children, with her whole life ahead of her, a promising future. Breast cancer. Months and months of fighting. Treatments, appointments. Between the hospital and home, this courageous mother marches on for her children. It’s not true that everything she has built with love will be taken away from her so easily. She looks ahead. She carries within her the pain she wants to silence, the pain we all feel. Is it true that sometimes we get a second chance? At least life didn’t take my friend away from me. It has made her fragile, but strangely stronger too. She survived her cancer; she won the battle.
Less than a year ago, Cancer Society Canada estimated that there would be over 87,000 cancer deaths in the country by 2025. These are statistics, of course. Numbers don’t cry. I do. The numbers tell a terrible story. I have witnessed this unjust fate. The numbers remind us of the importance of fighting and supporting causes related to cancer. I was angry. Today, I remember that little 4-year-old boy. Today, I admire my friend, who is more alive than ever. I still allow myself to cry. I allow myself to believe that humanity will continue to support those who are fighting cancer. February 4 is World Cancer Day. Please support the cause.
Simon Renaud, Québec-Regional Vice-President for UVAE
Sent on behalf of UVAE’s National Human Rights Committee