It’s Wednesday. For the first week since sharing my story on this blog, I found myself without words. Oh, I have words alright, I can’t express them here without offending someone. But here goes.
I love newspapers. There’s no better way to get to know a new community than to work at the newspaper. No longer a career choice newspapers were the center of activity in many small communities. There are still a few small-town papers, but I don’t know about the passionate journalists, typesetters, and strippers there are any more.
There is a great deal of pride in scooping a story. People have (had) a great deal of respect for writers and editors. Not so much anymore.
Over the years, newspapers have changed and evolved, and the tactile methods of putting out newspapers have been replaced by the digital world. One thing has remained the same — the rule of three.
More often than not, if you work in a newspaper office, you notice that deaths come in threes. You receive one obituary and plan for at least another two that week. It holds true in my life more often than not, and for some reason I still take notice of the rule of three.
What does any of this have to do with cancer? I see the pattern in diagnosis and also in the progression of this terrible disease.
It seems every week, I hear of another person beginning treatment for one type of cancer or another. Then there are three.
This week, it was reoccurrence. Three of the people on my cancer prayer list are going back into treatment or surgery or both. Once again, cancer becomes “the gift that keeps on giving.”
Why we can’t figure out how to check cancer once and for all is beyond me. I am contemplating the hope that AI can speed up research to discover a cure.
For now, I’m banking on prayer. I’m praying for friends and relatives. And I appreciate your prayers. I’m counting on prayer.
INDYchildrendotme 
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