Cancer

Kennedy Kramer, Reporter

𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒’𝚖 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚢

𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚙

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚓𝚞𝚍𝚐𝚎𝚍

𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚢

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚍

𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚔

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒’𝚖 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚘

𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑,

𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚋

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎

𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎

 

𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕.

𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎.

𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞,

𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝚒 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒 𝚍𝚘.

𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜

𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚜.

𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚓𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚕𝚎

𝚒 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚍

𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍:

𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢

𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍.

𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎.

𝚠𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚐𝚘𝚍,

𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕

𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢

𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘

𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎.

𝚒 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜

𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎

𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠

𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖;

𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜, 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜, 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜

𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒 𝚊𝚜𝚔, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍…

 

𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎.