Someone in a cancer group I'm a part of poste this the other day and it's funny...and very true.
“What’s it like to go through cancer treatment? It’s something like
this: one day, you’re minding your own business, you open the fridge to
get some breakfast, and OH MY GOD THERE’S A MOUNTAIN LION IN YOUR
FRIDGE.
Wait, what? How? Why is there a mountain lion in your
fridge? NO TIME TO EXPLAIN. RUN! THE MOUNTAIN LION WILL KILL YOU! UNLESS
YOU FIND SOMETHING EVEN MORE FEROCIOUS TO KILL IT FIRST!
So you
take off running, and the mountain lion is right behind you. You know
the only thing that can kill a mountain lion is a bear, and the only
bear is on top of the mountain, so you better find that bear. You start
running up the mountain in hopes of finding the bear. Your friends
desperately want to help, but they are powerless against mountain lions,
as mountain lions are godless killing machines. But they really want to
help, so they’re cheering you on and bringing you paper cups of water
and orange slices as you run up the mountain and yelling at the mountain
lion - “GET LOST, MOUNTAIN LION, NO ONE LIKES YOU” - and you really
appreciate the support, but the mountain lion is still coming.
Also, for some reason, there’s someone in the crowd who’s yelling
“that’s not really a mountain lion, it’s a puma” and another person
yelling “I read that mountain lions are allergic to kale, have you tried
rubbing kale on it?”
As you’re running up the mountain, you see
other people fleeing their own mountain lions. Some of the mountain
lions seem comparatively wimpy - they’re half grown and only have three
legs or whatever, and you think to yourself - why couldn’t I have gotten
one of those mountain lions? But then you look over at the people who
are fleeing mountain lions the size of a monster truck with huge
prehistoric saber fangs, and you feel like an asshole for even thinking
that - and besides, who in their right mind would want to fight a
mountain lion, even a three-legged one?
Finally, the person
closest to you, whose job it is to take care of you - maybe a parent or
sibling or best friend or, in my case, my husband - comes barging out of
the woods and jumps on the mountain lion, whaling on it and screaming
“GODDAMMIT MOUNTAIN LION, STOP TRYING TO EAT MY WIFE,” and the mountain
lion punches your husband right in the face. Now your husband (or
whatever) is rolling around on the ground clutching his nose, and he’s
bought you some time, but you still need to get to the top of the
mountain.
Eventually you reach the top, finally, and the bear is
there. Waiting. For both of you. You rush right up to the bear, and the
bear rushes the mountain lion, but the bear has to go through you to get
to the mountain lion, and in doing so, the bear TOTALLY KICKS YOUR ASS,
but not before it also punches your husband in the face. And your
husband is now staggering around with a black eye and bloody nose, and
saying “can I get some help, I’ve been punched in the face by two apex
predators and I think my nose is broken,” and all you can say is “I’M
KIND OF BUSY IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED I’M FIGHTING A MOUNTAIN LION.”
Then, IF YOU ARE LUCKY, the bear leaps on the mountain lion and they
are locked in epic battle until finally the two of them roll off a cliff
edge together, and the mountain lion is dead.
Maybe. You’re not sure - it fell off the cliff, but mountain lions are crafty. It could come back at any moment.
And all your friends come running up to you and say “that was amazing!
You’re so brave, we’re so proud of you! You didn’t die! That must be a
huge relief!”
Meanwhile, you blew out both your knees, you’re
having an asthma attack, you twisted your ankle, and also you have been
mauled by a bear. And everyone says “boy, you must be excited to walk
down the mountain!” And all you can think as you stagger to your feet is
“fuck this mountain, I never wanted to climb it in the first place.”
