Natasha Regehr
We are climbing up a mountain, and the landscape looks like Mars. Alternately rocky and sandy, the trail requires steady feet, but our shoes slip and slide over the red dust that coats everything. Other than the odd cactus dotting the steep slopes, this is a wasteland.
“How old are you?!” asked Diana Birrell incredulously, as we sat together on the upper level of a British double decker, touring the streets of York. I was in a “new” country, feeling bewildered, and worrying that my mom would be worrying about me. “What’s the equivalent of 911 in England?” I wanted to know. “Where do I lock up my passport, what do I do if I get lost, and is there really blood in this pudding?” I felt these were perfectly valid concerns for a timid traveller, but not Diana had no such qualms. A wee trip to England was just a tiny slice of her very adventurous life.
Diana, you see, had moved thirteen times by the time she was nineteen years old. Her British parents had hauled her around the globe as they moved from one engineering project to the next, punctuated by visits to Lebanon, the Mediterranean, England, India, Nepal, and Bangladesh. “They took us to see some pretty stupendous places,” she recalls. I suppose that for someone who experienced Mount Everest by horseback at 4:00 a.m. as a child, a little bus ride in a quaint British town is hardly a major life event. . .
When I said that I was jealous of Cancer, it never occurred to me that someone out there might be jealous of ALS. But apparently, that’s what’s happened.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. There are so many horrible illnesses out there, none of which are receiving the attention that ALS has enjoyed over the last few months. There are many obscure diseases without cures, and many well-known diseases that still claim too many lives each year. So it’s understandable, I guess, that people with strong feelings about other illnesses would be annoyed with the glut of icy videos cluttering their newsfeeds. Maybe I should have been more sensitive to that in my last post.
I came across one comment, however, that I just can’t overlook. The level-headed peace-lover in me advises me not to engage in a debate about a post that is so clearly riddled with inaccuracies and spurious reasoning. But posts such as these continue to receive nods of approval from readers I otherwise admire, and I have strong (and admittedly personal) feelings on the matter; and so I can’t help but address the points raised by this passionate commenter.
Comments following August 26 meme post on Facebook
I am angry with this thing called Cancer. Most of us are. We often hear it said that Cancer has “touched everyone’s lives” in some way. This is true. And it’s natural to hate the thing that causes loss.
But that’s not why I’m angry with Cancer. I’m angry with Cancer because I’m jealous of it. I have been for years. It’s infantile, I know, but I have wished it upon my family. “Cancer,” I have thought, “would be better than this.”
Let me tell you why.
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