Cancer is a stupid bumhole. I'd like to put it more violently but recent evidence suggests that at least one of my parents reads my blog on occasion so I'm going to leave it there. 2012 was a particularly crappy year of young lovely people getting cancer. To the point that I was starting to get a little fed up with the universe pissing on my homies and wishing it would take its stupid stinking cancer bollocks and shove it up the backside of one of the more deserving.
One of those young lovelies is a gorgeous giant of a man known as Rusty. Rusty was first diagnosed with cancer when his daughter was a baby and she started high school this week. He's a stage four cancer survivor and a man of incredibly few words. The kind of guy that makes cancer sound like man flu. Okay. He doesn't make it sound that bad... he makes it sound annoying, irritable and in no way the violent poisoning of a young healthy body that it is. He doesn't mention the effect it has on him, his gorgeous almost wifey and his beautiful young daughter. He doesn't talk about the months and months of his life he has spent in hospital, the failure of remission to remain permanent, the difficultly of building up a small business when you've got to keep popping out for chemo or to have a lymph node removed or some ribs or even just for a lie down because it turns out that no matter how healthy you start, what the disease doesn't fuck with, the cure will.
And Rusty is lucky. He's going strong at the moment and he has an incredible woman beside him and the love of a beautiful talented daughter who just finds him annoying and dorky because he is her dad. And he is also lucky because for whatever reason, his big ol' compassionate heart turns his cancer into an inconvenience to be conquered probably because its dragged on so long now it's boring. Like an old friend who is getting unnecessarily tedious and high maintenance.
So last year, to mix it up, two and half seconds after his last surgery, he decided to support a friend doing the Rottnest Island Channel swim and raise some money for the Melanoma Institute. I mean its only a 20km paddle. I could do that. Provided it was in a kayak equipped with a motor and cocktails. And that's before we mention the sharks in the water and the bodies washing up on Rottnest Island these days.
And now, because he had to have another encounter with the bitch called Cancer during 2012, he decided to do it again. I mean, what's a little light exercise for a good cause? I think he should paddle back as well but apparently he's not taking suggestions from lightweights.
Seriously though. There is very little I can do to make any of the cancer journeys being undertaken at the moment for people that I love and care for very much, any easier. Unless they need to outsource profaning and being generally cross at the universe in which case I AM THE MAN! So if in some way, having a blog can help Rusty help the Melanoma institute to sort out a cure for a least one of the stupid things and also support all the brilliant medical staff that have helped him and others on their unchosen journey, I would like to do it.
So this is a blatant, undisguised plea for you to donate to Rusty's latest 'Pay it forward' moment by going to http://melanomainstituteaustralia.gofundraise.com.au/page/MelanomaAwarenessRottoSwim2013. And know that in donating your fiver, your fifty or your five hundred that you are making a donation for all the beautiful people having the big argument with Cancer at the moment.
See Rusty having a few laconic words on Melanoma Awareness day last year by clicking here. And click on his photo above right or click on this phrase 'Cancer is a bumhole' to donate
And in the meantime. If when you think about Cancer you think Cancer is a 'C' word, congratulations on a successful education. Now Donate. No excuses. And share this so others do too. Just the price of a coffee would be lovely, there is no need to go overboard. But if you could donate three coffees that would be even lovelier.
PS: PUT ON THE SUNSCREEN. YES YOU!