I just heard Carly Fiorina talk about her journey with cancer, and it gave me pause.
Carly gets a journey along with her breast cancer diagnosis?
How come I don't get a journey? I've been pretty much stuck here in good old Sacramento, shuttling between doctor's appointments and home; between my bed and the couch.
Apparently, along with her cancer diagnosis, Carly got a vacation, which somehow persuaded her to run for California's US Senate seat. Along with my cancer diagnosis, I got a messy house, an emptier bank account, and a job scaled back to part-time.
What does a journey with cancer mean, anyway? I picture Carly walking on the beach, footsteps in the sand, ocean foam gently washing at her feet, hand-in-hand with her tumor. It sounds so romantic, doesn't it?
If you think about it, a journey is more than a vacation - it's travel where you learn something, right? So, we walk with our cancer, learning important life lessons. A journey with cancer is a backpacking trip among the real people of Europe.
People who mug you and make you sick, that is.
So it's a journey now? I thought we were battling cancer. We aren't supposed to walk with it, we are supposed to poison it, burn it, take that tumor's hand and hurl it into the ocean, right?
Is there some point when the journey with cancer becomes a battle? Or, does something happen to turn this battle into a journey?
Like, running for Senate?
These are the questions I would ask Carly if I was interviewing her.
Then, knowing she's a billionaire, I'd ask her to pay for my own journey.
Preferably to Maui.