Rest in peace my Love.
June 8, 1967-February 15, 2020
By Professor Doomed(published posthumously)
Allow today’s post as a poem I wrote:
Every day is cancer day, every single day
Every day is cancer day, it never goes away
Cancer in the morning, afternoon and night
Cancer in the darkness, cancer in the light
Cancer treatments, cancer pain
Cancer just comes back again
Cancer life is constant fright
This is not a cancer fight
Cancer hokum, cancer lies
Ev’ry one with cancer dies
“Trust me,” says another doc
But it’s just another crock
Cancer doctor wrong again
Cancer doctor rakes it in
Cancer doctor never right,
Cancer doctor just a blight
“Don’t give up” they do refrain
But the cancer’s back again
Kill my future, kill my past,
Doctors now kill me at last
Every day was cancer day, every single day
Every day was cancer day, it never went away…
(Apparently I’ve died, and a friend is posting for me. What follows are the remainder of my posts re: higher ed, followed by a few other entries. Alas, laptop troubles caused some 6 months of my writing to vanish into smoke recently, and I don’t have the energy to try to rewrite so much. I summarize:)
In the sex trade, a “child prostitute” is basically a big source of revenue. You rent it out to a monster, who brutalizes that “prostitute” as much as possible. If the child survives, then it’s passed on to another monster, generating more revenue. The owner repeats this until the child dies.
That’s the sex trade. In modern medicine, the equivalent is clearly “cancer patient,” although it’s possibly just “patient.” In any event, every time I realize I’ve been screwed over horribly, I just get passed to a new doctor.
I understand that I was an adult when I first trusted a doctor not to hurt me, and that I kept coming back to these monsters and so to a large extent I deserve what happened to me. Damn MDA in Houston for doing so much harm without so much as an apology.