When you
get cancer, it’s the end of many things. First of all, you have to kiss goodbye
to your orderly, highly structure life, I know sometimes life is a bitch, but
at least it’s a healthy bitch. So it’s the end of a normal life.

And then
just image that you stripped off in front of male doctors for CT scan, and
before you got time to put your cloths back on, the next patient, carried by
his son, already broke in. Oh yeah, it’s the end of your privacy.

It’s the
end of economical lifestyle—not for me yet, but I guess it might be very soon.
Many patient pals start to squander the money. It’s like carrying a bomb in
your body and you start to realize “I haven’t enjoyed my life yet! There are so
many places I wanted to visit but not, so many items I wanted to buy but not. And
what’s the use of saving money any way, for my husband’s next wife? “ So, you
see. I used to keep a record of every yuan I spent. This habit has been with me
for almost 10 years but now I’m thinking about quit. For example, my account
today would be: Breakfast: 10 yuan; Railway: 5 yuan; Hospital: 23981
yuan—it’s like a bad joke that hurts.

And
sometimes it’s also the end of your dignity or wisdom—I am not sure which one
it is. It’s been more than two months since I got ill and I’ve been to the
hospital like a hundred times, but I still haven’t figure out some procedures,
which combines with Are-you-stupid-kind-of-look from the assistant doctors made
me start to question my IQ.

For
example, how to buy targeted delivery drugs (PS, extremely expensive) is still
a mystery for me. The first time, my doctor wrote my prescription, and I went
through some procedures. So at the second time, I assumed it’s the same. My doctor
was not there, and her assistant refused to write out prescription because they
only write it on every Tuesday. It’s already the last day for my treatment, so I
had to beg her to prescribe. I pestered her for about half an hour. She finally
agreed, but she threw me her signature killing look, as if saying: “Leave me
alone, you filthy insect!”. This time, I remembered the Tuesday thing, and
because I was on drip that day, so I asked my mum to do it for me. Half an hour later, my mum came back with
tears in her eyes. I was pretty shocked because my mum seldom cried. That lady,
or perhaps she was actually the queen of the universe? still refused to write
out prescription. Quote: I didn’t know what you are talking about. Can you even
speak? （话都说不清楚！）” My mum was 70 years old. She might not know the name, but whe brought
all the paper with her. My mum asked all the doctors she could find, and
finally someone told her where to get the prescription.

I
thought this time everything would be OK. I am so navie. When I reported my
prescription, and I was told that my application is overdue! Nobody told me
anything. And I had to find the queen of the universe again. —-here, I really
didn’t want to relieve it.

Another
patient once said: “Because of this disease, dignity has become something to
stamp on.” Perhaps the queen of the universe really hates us, or perhaps she is
just overstressed, either way, it’s not worthy of getting angry. Yeah, perhaps
it’s not easy.

You
know, it could be worse. But as long as it’s not the end of hope, we could
handle it. And hope it’s in our heart, nobody except yourself can end it.