Imagine they gave cool awards to cancer patients and I got one. The coolest one. “The Most Sunny Skies Good Time Unbelievably Awesomest Cancer Patient Award 2011.” This is the speech I would give.
“Wow, I thought it was great just being nominated. I had no idea I would win. First of all to the other nominees, I bow to your efforts. You are truly exceptional people with amazing stories. Except for the guy with the grapefruit sized tumor on his elbow. Elbow cancer is not even a real thing so you can suck it.
I can’t believe I won. So many people to thank. First… Um, my cancer publicist Marty. Yeah, Dude, the way you got my name out there in the public eye so fast was something to behold. I gotta say at first I thought speaking out IN SUPPORT OF cancer at all those asbestos manufacturing conventions was in bad taste, but when you explained we were doing it “ironically” it was really funny after all. And that those nice mega-companies gave me tens of dollars in honorariums? What a bonus that was.
I’d also like to thank my cancer stylist Martika. Your decision to emphasize the cancer, rather than “putting my cancer in a corner” really turned it all around for me. Accentuating the oozing radiation burns on my neck through the use of Native American Dreamcatching accessories, really brought out the yellow in the infection. And hey, Sister Friend, I am keeping the Sitting Bull choker, assuming I can get all the blood out.
But let’s be honest, Lenny, my personal cancer assistant, got the worst of it. Yes, in the heat of the moment, emotions got high and lines were crossed. Stuffing your head into a microwave and screaming – “See, it hurts, right!” was inappropriate. Thank God, you were warming my Toaster Strudel in your George Foreman grill at the time and your makeshift wiring blew out a fuse before your head actually exploded. Trust me, we will laugh about it some day. The fact that you didn’t have renters insurance and your apartment burned down, may mean we will have to wait a few years for that laugh, but I am a patient man. I can wait.
And finally, to my loving family. Yes, early on you were discouraged. You took me to a lake, mumbled something about a Viking funeral, and shot flaming arrows at my kerosene soaked rowboat, but fortunately you’re really lousy shots.
The important thing is as soon as you realized there was no life insurance, we bonded. It was like a fog lifted. The soup you insisted I eat every meal tasted sweeter, we stopped having all those annoying gas leaks on “Dad, light a candle night” and the brake lines on my car magically repaired themselves. It’s like the whole family suddenly came together for a common goal! It was beautiful to see.
And lastly, the Doctors who zapped and poisoned me. The Nurses who poked and prodded me and the insurance companies who misplaced all my claims and said my pregnancy wasn’t covered. You have all made this rich experience, just a little bit richer. I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you!”
See, what an awesome speech that would be. Tomorrow I will post a real “thank you” blog entry. Those without a ready supply of insulin, should probably just skip it.