The element of surprise is spectacular. Especially in the certain circumstances of suffering. I, myself, was knowing that something bad was going to happen to me. I made it. I made the pain. Instead of the delivery going to me it went to my grandmother. Now, of course it is almost a trend to get cancer now a days. It's until it hits you near the heart is when it hurts. Finding out that a woman you know, so strong, so freaking honory, has something so destructive is like being ran over by a taxi. I didn't cry for her future death. Everyone is going to die, sooner or later. I didn't cry because she was my grandma. I sobbed like a small hurting child because of the pain she will endure. The poison filling her veins, her heart, her lungs, her soul. Poison to make her suffer through her destroyer longer than necessary. When I get cancer no one will know, not even myself.

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