I read an article in the Times today about Steven Wells, a British music journalist who wrote for the Philadelphia Weekly. He died on 23rd June, this year, at the age of 49 of Hodgkin’s lymphoma. You can read his obituary in the gaurdian here.
As he wrote primarily on the music industry I’m not familiar with his work although it was clearly well regarded. In his last article, reproduced in The Times today, he wrote honestly and with acerbic wit about the symptoms he suffered in the last stages of his illness as a result of the chemo. I was interested in an earlier posting in the Philadelphia Weekly on November 8th 2008, where he was reflecting on talking to people about his cancer:
Speaking of cancer, all week I’ve been telling people:
“Hey, I got the all-clear.”
“For what?”
“For cancer.”
“You had cancer?”
“Uh, yeah. Only wrote an entire 5,000-word bastard PW story about it with a picture of me, like, actually nearly dying on the front cover.”
“Oh. You were being serious about that?”
And then they start telling me about their cancer–or the cancer that killed half their family. And their cancer is always way cooler and funnier than mine.
It can be difficult when people respond with stories about other people’s cancer. There are more than 200 types of cancer and each one is different. Add to that the fact that every cancer sufferer’s experience is unique and comparisons are often not helpful at all.
