I’m in a study carrel at the University of Michigan library, and I want to scream and cry and kick the four walls of my enclosure.
Yesterday during a break from class I opened up my New York Times homepage to find Elizabeth Edwards had died. This morning I woke up to Elizabeth Edwards’ voice on NPR, from an interview in which she calmly accepts her own death. She could not believe, she said, in a God who allows senseless tragedies to happen. A sixteen year old who dies in a car crash. And breast cancer. The swift erasure of so many women.
Today I procrastinate during paper writing by checking in with the blogosphere, to find that one of the breast cancer bloggers from my blogroll, Jill, who has been living with Stage 4 triple-negative breast cancer, is in the hospital and not doing at all well. Her family is asking for prayers.
Breast cancer, I fucking hate you.