Crafts and Crafting: Fuck Cancer

Just when you think it’s all over…

You get that message: Call home. It’s important.

Nothing good ever comes from that message. In my case, in normally means someone is dying.

Two years after my mother-in-law died from lung cancer, three years after my oldest brother died of lung cancer, here we are again.

Mom has lung cancer.

Pretty much the moment I stopped crying I picked up a needle. It’s kind of janky (and I didn’t even bother ironing it first) but it sums up how I was feeling at the time.

How can we put a man in space and not have a fucking cure for cancer yet? Fuck that.