There but for the --

For the what? Bloody goddamn fucking hell. There is no such thing as grace, and there sure as hell is no justice. You can't tell me there is. I want to puke and cry and I feel a little ashamed to be so grateful for my happy lucky little life, but also there's this plain old blinding rage.

I love this woman for documenting it all so honestly and speaking for all those who can't or who don't or who haven't yet, and for making the rest of us so goddamn uncomfortable. She's a wonderful writer, gloriously articulate, hilarious, and her blog As the Tumor Turns is indeed not for the squeamish or faint of heart. Now writing as lymphopo, the blogger formerly known as grannyvibe is:

"A single woman in my fifties, in debt, no income, no health insurance, and then that grapefruit-sized tumor wedged between my lungs turns out to be a malignant high-grade highly aggressive stage IV lymphoma. How much worse can it get? Bwahahaha! Stay tuned and find out."

Her son's blog, the highly excellent finnegan's wake-up call has a donation link, if you're so inclined.

This shit happens all too often. To too many people. And I'm not talking about just the serious illness part of the picture. "Will anyone ever believe me if I tell them that the cancer is ofthen the least of my worries?" lymphopo asks here. And answers: "In all honesty, I feel more debilitating anxiety over my financial disaster; deeper heartache over my foundering relationship; greater terror over the state of the world."

Yeah.

Thanks, belledame, for the link.