It’s hard enough to help ourselves, let alone help others.
“You look terrible.”
He held my face to his and told me: “I have a history of heroin use, but I’m clean, and I’ve been tested. Are you sure you want to do this?”
And how do we know what’s even calling us, what obsesses us?
My immune system isn’t the greatest, and on that particular night, I had a legitimate flu.
At the end of the day, Death doesn’t discriminate or ostracize, and in the face of Death, we are all Losers.
You were everything I needed, exactly when I needed it. You saved me, and I love you everyday for it.
You never think it will happen to you. Never. Not in a million years.
Remember, knowledge is shareable—just like the diseases that will kill us all.
Where is the support system, the sense of safety and understanding for Non Hodgkin’s Lymphoma victims? Where are the catchy slogans and commercials raising awareness for the horrible, non-cureable disease my mother suffers from? What about lung cancer? Stomach cancer, bladder cancer, leukemia?