Tuesday Tirade.

"Cancer sucks. I wish cancer would get cancer and die."

Those were the words of my 13 year old baby, who lost her Godfather yesterday to cancer. Yes, baby, cancer really does suck. It sucks a lot. I hate cancer. Her Godfather was a very special man. He and his wife of 50+ years are my husband's best friend's parents. They were like second parents to my husband, and when we met and married, they treated me like the daughter they never had. And when my daughters were born, they treated those girls like their own granddaughters, spoiling them (and us) rotten. They were honored when we asked them to be 13's Godparents.

Then, we got a call about 12 or so years ago: Bill had suffered a heart attack and without a heart transplant, he'd most certainly die. My baby wasn't even 3 years old, and we were beside ourselves. Here's a crazy twist of fate that I always say was something that was meant to be: I was very close friends with one of my old customers, Ed, from my casino days in Atlantic City. We had known one another for years, and Ed and his wife were at our wedding, Ed danced with me, he was kind and very generous, and he passed away in June the year after Bill had his heart attack. A month later, on what would have been Ed's birthday, July 10, we got a call that a heart had been found for Bill. Call me crazy, call me whatever you want, but I strongly believe that when Ed died, he went up and had a little heart to heart with God, and he told God that Bill should stick around on Earth for awhile. And Ed found a heart for Bill. Shut up, this is what I believe.

Anyway, Bill had lived on an LVAD for over a year, so the heart transplant surgery was very touch and go, but in the end, Bill survived and we had an extra decade or so with him, thanks to that amazing person who agreed to donate his vital organs. (PSA, if you're not already, please consider being an organ donor)

Flash forward to last Christmas. Bill was diagnosed with that awful, horrible disease. The prognosis was not good. His options were extremely limited. Surgery would not work, his body was not strong enough. Chemo was the best route, but the most physically harmful to his already frail body. Doing nothing was the last option, just letting the cancer take him. Bill decided to go with chemo, but in the end, it did more harm than good, and we lost him yesterday. My baby lost her Godfather, my husband lost his second father, I lost a good friend and the world lost a great man. Kind, generous, funny as hell with a deadpan delivery. Always giving my husband, 'Beeb', a hard time about anything and everything. Bill and I used to love to pick on my husband, and he would just laugh and take it in stride.

So I'm saddened that we've lost such a great friend and I'm mad as hell that cancer has taken yet another person that I love. Yes, baby, cancer does suck. It sucks the joy out of living. It sucks hard. I'm so sorry that he won't ever be here to watch you walk down the aisle, and give your future husband a hard time like he gives your daddy, because we both know he'd do that. I'm sorry he'll never get to meet your own babies, I know he would've loved that. I remember when he held you in his arms when you were a baby, and I'm so sorry that cancer has taken him from us. From you. From his wife Pat, from his sons, Bill, Steve and Greg and from his grandson Billy.

I have to hope that my friend Ed was waiting for Bill at the pearly gates of heaven, and that Bill shook his hand and thanked Ed for giving helping to give him a few extra years with us.