Cancer Quotes - Page 46

Have I told you I have cancer? It's a very special kind of cancer. Cancer of the soul.

I may have found the cure for cancer, and I think it might be Thom Yorke Serum.

Cancer has changed how I see adversity, because there is so much inequality in the treatment of the disease and it shouldn't have to be that you live or die depending on where you live. I'm still learning not to sweat the small things and to live each day to the fullest.

Under normal circumstances, women go through a lot; and breast cancer compounds the situation of our daily lives. Supporting other women is paying forward and cementing part of my legacy in giving my time in helping others to either live a better life or reach their full potential.

I wish that I knew the importance of having a regular mammogram, as early detection offers better treatment options and a better quality of life. I ignored the warning signs of the lump underneath my right arm when I discovered it in September 2006 and didn't seek medical attention until March 2007. By then, I was experiencing a late stage of breast cancer that forever changed my life.

I am a community activist, philanthropist, breast cancer survivor, advocate and founder and board chair of the Thelma D. Jones Breast Cancer Fund. I am also a parent, grandparent, and a doting pet owner.

I would tell a newly diagnosed young woman that breast cancer is a complex disease which can be frightening and confusing, and it's normal to experience these emotions, and having a good support system is important. Be an active participant in your treatment, follow your doctor's instructions and ask questions. Also, I would tell her that there have been many advances in breast cancer and women are now living much longer.

I was extremely close with my mother and my grandmothers, we shared our lives - fully, honestly - and it was heightened as each succumbed to cancer. Little was hidden between us. No time. And what was hidden, turned inward. I made a vow to speak. Speak or die.

I can tell that in Refuge the question that was burning in me was, how do we find refuge in change? Everything around me that was familiar had been turned inside out with my mother's diagnosis of ovarian cancer and with the Bear River Migratory Bird Refuge being flooded.

I write about nuclear tests in Refuge - "The Clan of One-Breasted Women." With so many of the women in my family being diagnosed with breast cancer, mastectomies led to one-breasted women. I believe it is the result of nuclear fallout.

It's insane, the internet. Totally craziness. Like a little cancer. People can just do whatever they want, say whatever they want, be totally anonymous. It's totally out of control.

Cancer is a demonic pregnancy.

The fantasies inspired by TB in the last century, by cancer now, are responses to a disease thought to be intractable and capricious--that is, a disease not understood--in an era in which medicine's central premise is that all diseases can be cured.

But even as she told herself that, she remembered the way Cal had looked today with his shirt off while he’d stood on the ladder and scraped the side of Annie’s house. Watching those muscles bunch and flex every time he moved had made her crazy and she’d finally grabbed his shirt, thrown it at him, and delivered a stern lecture on the depletion of the ozone layer and skin cancer.

I said, "Suppose communists come out against cancer, do we have to automatically come out for cancer?'" I can't take back that I'm against the poll tax, that I'm against lynching, that I'm for peace.

It seems a bit unfair to my relatives to be murdered in order to provide an opportunity for free will for Germans, but even putting that aside, how does free will account for cancer? Is it an opportunity of free will for tumors?

If you were meant to cure cancer or crack cold fusion and you don't do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children, you hurt me, you hurt the planet. You shame the angels who watch over you and you spite God Almighty, who created you and only you with your unique gifts, for the sole purpose of nudging the human race one millimeter further along its path back to God.

Cancer is the emergent property of the accumulated errors in an ordered system. It's the consequences of random events.

Our fears are those that cause cancer and those fears operate in the regions that the drugs we use to hide our fears is the most predominate feeling. Our minds cause our inner illness for the most part.

I could not move them. They would not even agree to a modification, of the ruling (banning the Rand vaccine), which would at least allow the 100 (cancer) patients at Richmond Heights (Ohio) to complete their injections. The Justice Department was prepared to go along, but the FDA commissioner, Dr. James Goddard, was adamant, even belligerent. It's wrong of the government to snatch away this hope when there is no evidence against its use offered in court. It's damnably wrong.

I believe these stories exist because we sometimes need to create unreal monsters and bogies to stand in for all the things we fear in our real lives: the parent who punches instead of kissing, the auto accident that takes a loved one, the cancer we one day discover living in our own bodies. If such terrible occurrences were acts of darkness, they might actually be easier to cope with. But instead of being dark, they have their own terrible brilliance. . . and none shine so bright as the acts of cruelty we sometimes perpetrate in our own families.

If a man dies of cancer in fear and despair, then cry for his pain and celebrate his life. The other man, who fought like hell and laughed in the end, but also died, may have had an easier time in his final months, but took his leave with no more humanity.

When they tell you that you have cancer, you panic.

I think of stress as the creator of cancer and heart attacks, like a tiny little ball you feed. I believe that one of the reasons I've never got ill is that I'm not stressed.

There's a phrase in Shakespeare: he refers to it as the 'hidden imposthume', and this idea of a hidden swelling is seminal to cancer. But even in more contemporary writing it's called 'the big C'.