May 15, 2002, 7:16 p.m.
My cousin is dying. She's not even 2.
Her parents took her to the doctors last week because she hadn't been eating and had been pretty lethargic. The doctor was afraid she had a parasite or a weird virus.
It's much, much worse.
She's full of cancer. Tumors throughout her stomach, her spine, and one roughly the size of a pineapple around her heart and major arteries.
Did I mention she's not even two years old? Did I also mention that her parents a) never have smoked nor take her places with smoke, b) are the healthiest people alive, and c) had no clue that ANYTHING was REMOTELY the matter with this child?
While the rest of my family sits around moping, I have built up a quiet rage. Looking for someone to blame (it's the American way) and finding no one, I have skulked around, eaten chocolates and forcefully marked "E"s on all my students' papers.
I know it won't solve anything.
All of this makes my silly complaints and ramblings and etc. seem so small, so infantile, and insignificant.