Cancer Is Fucking Bullshit

Fight_Breast_Cancer_by_aphanterOver the last week on my main blog, I’ve been trying to raise some awareness for charity. Each of my Pranksters (this includes you, too, because the prank isn’t over yet) have been challenged to pull a prank on the internet for the charity of their own choice, by talking about it on their blogs. I have been adding the charities to a master list on my blog so that I could, for once, use social media to talk about things other than what an ass I am. There is, of course, a huge prize, because who wants to be all CHARITABLE without reason? Free ice cream for a year. No, seriously.

Oh, and this isn’t an entry, because really, that would be weird.

It may horrify you to know that in my past life, before I was Your Aunt Becky, I was Nurse Becky. Although, actually, perhaps whenever I write about medical things, you could picture me in a sexy nurses uniform, and that might make it all better. But alas, Pranksters or Toy With Me-ers, or whatever I will call you today, I retired from the nursing profession after a few measly months. I won’t bore you with the “what the fuck is wrong with you?” part of it, because it’s acutely dull, but I felt that had to assure you that you will not be treated by Nurse Becky if you were to go to your local hospital. I didn’t want any of you to avoid medical treatment in the fear that you’d find me accidentally hooking up a bag of vodka rather than a bag of normal saline.

Before I quit nursing, though, I rotated through the oncology ward. The oncology ward is where the cancer patients go when they have to be hospitalized for chemotherapy and other assorted cancer-related things. Oncology nursing is a highly specialized form of nursing that requires a fuckton of extra training and certification, which basically makes you a ninja nurse. Had I stuck with being Nurse Becky, I may have gone into oncology nursing because then I would have been NINJA Nurse Becky. But if I’d been NINJA Nurse Becky you wouldn’t have Your Aunt Becky and where would we be?

(shut up)

October is cancer awareness month, and that’s a cause I can totally get behind. Because you know what I think about cancer? Cancer is bullshit. I’m actually making shirts for my other, other site, Band Back Together, that say just that: “Cancer is bullshit,” and giving some portion of the proceeds to charity. I think that doing good makes your ass look hot, don’t you? I’d actually say, “Cancer is FUCKING Bullshit,” but I think that’s a little too profane for even me. So the rest of the world can stand up to cancer, and I’ll call Cancer BULLSHIT to it’s awful ugly face.

So what is cancer (besides bullshit)? Basically, cancer is an overgrowth of abnormal cells that have fucked up DNA. These asshole abnormal cells can infiltrate other tissues. Often, these asshole abnormal cancer cells create tumors, but, Pranksters, be warned that not all tumors are cancerous. Sometimes a tumor is just a tumor (a non-cancerous tumor is called a benign tumor). These asshole abnormal cancer cells can also travel to other parts of the body (this is called metastasis) through the blood or lymph nodes. No matter where the cancer spreads, it is named for the place that it began. When cancer is diagnosed, it is staged based upon how far the cancer has spread. Cancer staging criteria depends upon which type of cancer is diagnosed and the criteria will determine the cancer treatment plan.

I’ve lost two grandparents to cancer. I’ve known countless more people who have had cancer, who have watched loved ones struggle with cancer, and who have died from cancer. Cancer can kiss my ass. Cancer is bullshit.

For many cancers, early cancer screening and early detection of cancer can catch the cancer while it is still in the more treatable aspects of the disease. Breast cancer is one such type of cancer that can be detected early. We all love the boobs and we all want to save the boobs. The American Cancer society recommends that all women over the age of forty with normal risk for breast cancer receive yearly mammograms to screen for breast cancer. Women with higher risks for breast cancer should talk to their doctor about performing more routine mammograms. Mammograms are effective at catching breast cancer at earlier stages because mammograms can view the internal breast anatomy in great detail.

One of the charities that works tirelessly to fight against breast cancer (the research of which will hopefully help all cancers) is Susan G. Komen for the Cure. In 1982, Nancy G. Brinker vowed that she would do everything she could to end breast cancer as she watched her sister Susan G. Komen die of breast cancer. Nancy G. Brinker then launched Susan G. Komen for the Cure, a non-profit organization devoted to saving lives, empowering people, and searching for a cure for breast cancer. Since then, Susan G. Komen for the Cure has ensured that 75% of women receive regular mammograms to screen for early detection of breast cancer. Now, according to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure website, the five-year survival rate for breast cancer is up from 74% to 98%. Since Nancy G. Brinker launched her non-profit Susan G. Komen for the Cure, they have donated $1.5 billion dollars to community outreach and breast cancer research.

For the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Susan G Komen for the Cure, they have taken a look at how far they have managed to come. And the Susan G. Komen for the Cure have decided that they have so much further to go to find a cure for breast (and hopefully other) cancers. The Susan G. Komen for the Cure has redoubled their efforts, refocused their resources and planned to invest an additional one billion dollars over the next ten years. The Susan G. Komen for the Cure knows that without a cure for breast cancer, over the next ten years, twenty-five million women worldwide will be diagnosed with breast cancer. Ten million of those could die. Susan G. Komen for the Cure hopes that in the next ten years, they can get closer to a cure for breast cancer.

Susan G. Komen for the Cure, like Your Aunt Becky, knows that cancer is bullshit.



  1. My THIRTY-TWO year old neighbor died of Stage 4 breast cancer on September 20th. She left behind a husband and two daughters, ages 5 and 2 (the oldest turned 5 six days after her mom died).


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