Don't Be A Scaredy-cat, Give Something Back
The Age
Thursday October 16, 2008
TWO brushes with cancer in two weeks. The first one was minor. I was in the shower when I noticed a bunch of tiny lumps on the shower screen.
I consulted the definitive domestic-diagnostic textbook, Spotless, and found out my shower screen had tragically developed "glass cancer"; tiny bubbles of air were trapped in the glass, giving it a displeasingly scummy look.This brush with cancer had to be treated with a cancer brush and also a bottle of "goanna oil". I'm not sure how anyone discovered that goanna oil brightens showers, but maybe someone was once showering with an oily goanna, and thought to themselves, "Hey, this is not only fun, but my shower screen is miraculously scumless, and streak-free too".My second brush with cancer was less scrubbable. I was getting these weird pains in my neck, so I went to see a doctor, who sent me off for precautionary cancer tests, then called me up that same night with a breathless, trembly Philip Seymour Hoffman voice, leaving great ominous pauses at the worst possible moments.He said: "Mr Katz, I needed to contact you as soon as possible because ... (a long ominous pause, allowing me plenty of time to think, 'Because what, Doc? Why the urgency, Doc?Why the dramatic silence, Doc?') ... I've checked your tests for cancer and unfortunately ... (a longer ominous pause, allowing me time to think, 'Did you say cancer, Doc? Did you say unfortunately, Doc? Hello, are you still there, Doc?') ... there does appear to be some noticeable signs of ... (a massively long pause, allowing me time to think, 'OH MY GOD, I'VE GOT UNFORTUNATE CANCER, I'M GOING TO BE DEAD SOON, VERY SOON, POSSIBLY BEFORE THE END OF THIS MASSIVELY OMINOUS PAUSE') ... mild arthritis, so just take some anti-inflammatories, do some neck stretches, and you'll be fine."Note to all doctors: when you phone a patient with good news, always start the call with, "IT'S NOT CANCER, hello there, I have your results." In fact, when patients come to see you about anything, greet them at the door with, "IT'S NOT CANCER, come in, so what seems to be the problem?" My first brush with cancer caused me a bit of stress, mostly in my kneecaps while kneeling on shower tiles and scrubbing for an hour ... but my second brush with cancer flipped me out completely, got me thinking how easily things could have turned out differently, how cancer is going to affect everyone in some way, and how it can't just be treated like glass cancer, you can't just rub on rendered goanna fat. I know, I checked in Spotless.Which is why I've decided to donate money to cancer research - and this is the perfect month to do it, because it's that joyous festive time of year known as Cancer Awareness Season. All around town, people are holding fund-raising sports events, rock concerts, art shows - just last weekend my beloved held a fund-raising tea party in our house. Cancer had never been so dapper, delightful and dainty-cupcaked.Also coming up is the Victorian Cancer Council's Relay for Life, where you can raise money by doing laps of sports stadiums and pretending ever so briefly that you're a flabbier, pastier member of the Jamaican 4x400 relay team. And then there's Pink Ribbon Day, where you can buy ribbons to support breast cancer research and remind women to check their humps for unlovely lady lumps. And next month there's Movember, where men grow moustaches to promote prostate health - though personally I reckon more men would get regular prostate checks if prostate clinics had cooler, blokier-sounding names, like Orificeworks, or Bummings Warehouse.Cancer is not a nice thing to talk about, I know, but if we all help raise more money for research, maybe we can find cures, and treat sufferers, and stop being so scared all the time. And there might even be a bit left over to fund speechtherapy classes for all doctors with weird, nervous Philip Seymour Hoffman voices.
© 2008 The Age