So, I had cancer. One of those things that shoots out of the sky, destroys your idea of what your life is and leaves you wondering what the hell just happened. Add to it a surprise reveal that I carry one of the Big Bad Genes, the patented ones. (Does this mean my DNA is infringing on a copyright?)
I'm still absorbing what this all means for me. How it will affect my writing. The important thing is the cancer is gone.
Getting cancer is definitely not a "gift," and I shudder when I hear that or some variation of it. Cancer is a menace, a killer, a red flag that something is going wrong in our world. Forget the gene -- the gene was always there; now it's getting triggered by something. But to the point -- I will say that this experience offered up some other surprise reveals: Stronger connections. A sharpening of focus. A brightening of senses and emotion. Would I change it if I could? Of course I would. I would choose to not get cancer, I would choose to not go through this hell. But I did go through it, and I'll take what I can from it.
One day, maybe I'll even make some kind of sense out of it.