My Uncle

My dad’s older brother was diagnosed with cancer about a month ago. If he is lucky, he has three more years.

I surprised myself with the initial reaction I had. I was not upset that my uncle could possible die soon, but I was upset that my father would be losing a brother. Due to the evil step monster, my dad does not have a good relationship with his father and they haven’t spoken in years. The last time they saw each other, the step monster just about provoked WWIII. And my dad also does not talk to his sister. Other than his aunt (who is my father’s mother’s sister) and some cousins, my dad does not have too much to do with his family. But he is close with his brother. I could not imagine my life without my sisters or my parents. I can not fathom the idea of being so angry with them that I would never want to talk to them. It really bothers me that my dad does not have a better relationship with his family. So when he told me his brother is sick with cancer, I felt bad that he might be losing one of the few family members he still talked to.

My uncle (and his wife) has never taken very good care of themselves, health-wise. They are both obese and don’t pay attention to their diet and never exercise. In fact, my uncle has had many weight related problems- diabetes, joint trouble, sleep apnea, high blood pressure and cholesterol, etc. He even has gastric bypass surgery and did not lose a fucking pound! (Seriously, how the fuck does that happen?!?! You actually have to try hard not to lose weight after doctors make your stomach the size of a pea!) Less than a year ago he was hospitalized because he is on so many different medications for all of his aliments that they made his blood toxic! Now that my uncle has started his chemo, he is really not doing so well. He has lost his hair and is weak and sick and doing horrible.

My reaction to this was not compassion or empathy. Rather my first thoughts were, “He had it coming! He brought this on himself! I bet he wished he had taken care of himself.” That’s not normal. I know he can’t help that he got cancer. But he would have had a better chance if he were otherwise healthy. And it makes me mad. I’m mad that my dad is losing his brother. I’m mad that my aunt is losing a husband. I’m mad that cousin is losing a father. And I am mad that my sisters and I are losing an uncle.

At the same time, who the fuck am I to talk? I have not exactly been kind to my body. But it is the opposite of how my uncle was not kind to his body. After years of over-exercising, depriving my body of food, and intentionally puking up everything I ate, I am still seeing the aftermath of my bad behavior. And I probably always will. I don’t know if I can have babies (it’s a good thing I don’t want kids!). My hair won’t ever grow back all the way and be thick and beautiful like it used to. My hands are scared. I have osteopenia. So, if I am diagnosed with osteoporosis when I’m 30, people will probably say that I had it coming. That I did it to myself. That I bet I wish I had taken better care of myself.