How I Will Die of Cancer

In Canada, cancer will cause more than 75,000 deaths in 2009. Each day, roughly 470 Canadians will be diagnosed with some form of the disease.

Yikes! This is why I remain certain that cancer will kill me. I’m a prime target. I eat a diet rich in fatty foods, I drink out of plastic water bottles, and unlike almost everyone who rides public transportation, I apply a thick coat of antiperspirant every morning.

And as far as early detection goes, I’m screwed. Everything was fine until last year when my family doctor left his practice, only to be replaced by a smoking hot babe. Now, instead of telling my doctor what’s wrong, so I can be properly diagnosed, I’m responding to her questions as if I was on eHarmony.com.

Sexy Doctor: “How are you feeling?”

Steve (seductively): “Never better. I think I’m in the best shape of my life.”

Sexy Doctor: “Any history of heart disease or cancer in your family?”

Steve (staring deep into her eyes) “Nope. I happen to be blessed with immaculate seed.”

Sexy Doctor: “So, according to your chart, you contracted anal warts during Spring Break 2004?”

Steve (awkward chuckle): “Anal warts? How did that get in there? That’s ridiculous (sweating furiously). Now, how do you feel about Thai food?

So you see, cancer is a virtual lock for me. I will literally die of embarrassment. The only question is, what kind of cancer will pull the trigger? Let’s review the Vegas odds line, shall we?

COLON CANCER: 2-1 ODDS

As a fat guy who enjoys red meat and taking long Bundy-like dumps, this is the cancer for me. Like going out on top of my game.

Me: “Well, old buddy, I guess I always knew it would end this way.”

Colon (crying): “We sure had some good times though, didn’t we?”

Me: “We sure did.”

or

My future son: “But it’s not fair.”

My future widow: “It’s okay, Billy. He would’ve wanted it this way.”

(Puts hand on son’s shoulder and… scene.)

PROSTATE CANCER: 7-2 ODDS

According to the Canadian Cancer Society, Canadian men “will continue to see prostate cancer as the most commonly diagnosed cancer, with an estimated 25,500 new cases in 2009.”

Forget that. This is the stat that needs to be put under a microscope:

“A man has a low probability of being diagnosed with prostate cancer before age 50.” – Statistics Canada

What?!! Then why, at the ripe old age of 18, did a Carleton University doctor examine my prostate?

I’ll never forget my buddies’ reactions after I described my first physical:

“He did what?

“Did you request it?”

“At any point, did you hear a zip and feel both his hands on your shoulder?”

To lighten the mood, the doctor even cracked a joke about the tightness of my rectum. I’m dead serious.

I demand an official investigation. I was practically fisted!

LUNG CANCER: 12-1 ODDS

You know something? I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life. I think it’s a symptom of “never being cool.” However, with second-hand smoke, first hand weed and an unrelenting desire to be more like Don Draper, lung cancer remains a distinct possibility. After all, “lung cancer will remain the leading cause of cancer death in Canadian men in 2009″ (Canadian Cancer Society).

But that’s okay. Who wouldn’t choose a blackened lung over mouth cancer, or that one where you get a hole carved into your neck? While a voice box is hard to understand, nothing says, “I should’ve quit” more clearly than a tracheotomy.

(I mean, a neckhole!!! That would have to seriously ruin your game.)

TESTICULAR CANCER: 20-1 ODDS

Just when you thought this article couldn’t get any more juvenile, we come to the only cancer that’s actually okay to joke about. I don’t know why, but guys have somehow deemed nut cancer “fair game.” Perhaps it’s because we know that under five percent of cases result in death (American Cancer Society, 2004), or maybe it’s just because we love a good “football in groin” moment (The Simpsons, 1995), but for guys, this is a cancer with built-in entertainment value.

And don’t tell me it’s not a great cancer to survive. After all, there are a lot of curious ladies out there. For instance, Sheryl Crow and Kate Hudson just had to check out Lance’s matching yellow cock ring.

While the 7-time Tour de France winner is undoubtedly the disease’s most famous face, for me it’ll always be lovable Phillies first baseman John Kruk. I was only 14 when this beer-swilling, tobacco-chewing, ball-scratching, fatter-than-life baseball star was diagnosed with testicular cancer. I’m pretty sure I giggled.

HODGKIN’S OR NON-HODGKIN’S LYMPHOMA: 100-1 ODDS

While Penguins legend Mario Lemieux remains the undisputed face of Hodgkin’s disease, Larry David’s question from Curb Your Enthusiam always comes to mind: “Is it the good Hodgkin’s or the bad Hodgkin’s?”

To clarify: For Hodgkin’s, the death rate is 0.4 per 100,000 men and women per year; for non-Hodgkins, the death rate is 7.1 per 100,000 men and women per year.

So, staying with hockey, fighting non-Hodgkin’s is like dropping the gloves with Bob Probert, while fighting Hodgkin’s resembles a tussle with Capitals forward Alexander Semin.

Glad I could help.

BREAST CANCER: 250-1 ODDS

As the second leading cause of cancer mortality among women (after lung), breast cancer is the cancer of wives and mothers everywhere. It’s like Mother’s Day with a different florist. It’s so popular, in fact, that the marketing geniuses behind those Breast Cancer Awareness ribbons managed to steal the colour pink from the gays.

All I’m saying is, as a woman, you couldn’t dream of a more respectable death. Whereas for a man, nothing could be as embarrassing as breast cancer (especially if you have man boobs).

“So, Steve, what kind of cancer did you say you have?”

“Ahh . . . breast cancer, why?”

“I thought only chicks got that?”

“No, no, actually more than 1,990 cases of male breast cancer get diagnosed each year.”

“But breast cancer is 100 times more common in women, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“So, what is it Steve? You a girl? You a girl, Steve?”

(A devastating titty twister is applied and . . . scene.)

Conversely, when you’re a happening young lady, you don’t want colon cancer. Just imagine, all of those years pretending not to poop, only to be busted with colon cancer. Actual hard evidence that you’ve been squeezing them off at work like one of the boys. I’m sorry, ladies, but that’s just gross.

STOMACH CANCER: 300-1 ODDS

While colon cancer is unseemly for hot chicks, stomach cancer has to be a social life killer for fat girls.

Just look at this list of famous stomach cancer survivors: Rosie O’Donnell, Tyne Daly, Natalie from the Facts of Life, and last but not least (literally), Canada’s own Rita MacNeil.

You see? This cancer is wide open for fat jokes.

Luckily for you heavy-set broads, stomach cancer strikes men more often than women. In Canada, while gastronomical cancer rates aren’t as high (10th most common cancer in men and the 16th in women), it still strikes an estimated 2,800 Canadians every year.

Early diagnosis is challenging because most patients don’t show symptoms in the early stage. This often leads to a certain and sudden death. The median survival time after a stomach cancer diagnosis is only 10 months.

Therefore, I took the liberty of drafting this document:

Rita MacNeil’s Bucket List

Domino’s Bread Bowl Pasta

4 fresh Nova Scotia lobsters with two sticks of garlic butter

The new Brownie Batter Blizzard at Dairy Queen

One night with comedy legend Louie Anderson

BRAIN CANCER: 3-1 ODDS

Oh, I’m sorry, these are actually the odds of you developing brain cancer after reading this crap. My advice: Immediately stop reading, toss your cell phone and start wearing one of those sweet Aretha Franklin inauguration hats.

Hey, it can’t hurt.

SKIN CANCER: 500-1 ODDS

Considering I’ve never even had a good tan, this would be an incredibly unfair disease for me to contract. It’d be like me getting AIDS despite never getting laid.

Since I already had to deal with bacne throughout high school, you’d think the man upstairs could cut me some slack and save skin cancer for George Hamilton, Mario Lopez, and those greased-up body builder types.

While Bob Marley died of skin cancer, this affliction is much riskier for white people like me. In African American skin, melanin provides a sun protection factor (SPF) approximately equivalent to 13.4, compared to only 3.4 in white skin.

Luckily, to even it up, god gave white dudes much larger schlongs, enhanced running and jumping ability, and sexy, big-bootied, finger-wagging ladies to mate with.

PROSTATE CANCER: 1000-1 ODDS

On second thought, I’m dropping the prostate cancer odds. I mean, he was pretty thorough. And to be honest, I didn’t suspect a thing until days after the appointment.

Steve (picking up the phone): “Hello.”

Doctor: “Hi, it’s Brad.”

Steve: “Brad?”

Doctor: “Well, Dr. Thomas, but you can call me Brad.”

Steve: “Do you have my results or something?”

Doctor: “Ahh, yes. You checked out well. Extremely well.”

Steve: “Thank you, doctor, that’s great news. Err, I mean, thanks Brad.”

Doctor: “No problem. Hey, how do you feel about Thai food?”

CHANCES I’LL WRITE A BRILLIANT, TOUCHING CONCLUSION, THEREBY JUSTIFYING THE EXISTENCE OF THIS OFFENSIVE ARTICLE: 5000-1 ODDS

We all know someone who’s died of cancer. A grandma, a brother, a friend, an uncle who molested you, it could be anyone really.

After all, 1 in 3.5 men and 1 in 4.2 women, or approximately 1 in 4 of all Canadians will die of cancer. If it hasn’t happened already, someone’s bound to be taken from you far too soon. Well, depending on what you consider “far too soon.”

The Canadian Cancer Society reports that “43 per cent of new cancer cases and 60 per cent of deaths due to cancer occur among those over 70 years old.” Even with golf and the invention of boner pills, I think we can all agree that 70 is old enough.

If you disagree and would like to live long into your Matlock years, your only hope is that cancer death rates continue to decline and the people who actually end up with cancer are those who’ve spent their whole life trying to avoid it.

You know the type, strutting around the office with their fancy space-age water bottle, giving your frozen microwave dinner the skunk-eye while biting into whatever fruit or vegetable is supposed to prevent cancer this week.

Upon hearing their terrible news, you’d feign sadness of course. You’d tell the person stuff like, “I’m praying for you, kiddo,” and “We can beat this together,” but just to rub it in, you’d say all these things while enjoying a good chew of Skoal genuine smokeless tobacco. “Mind if I spit?”

Well, with that paragraph in the books, it’s safe to say that I now, unequivocally, deserve cancer . . . but, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I could start slinging crystal meth like the guy on Breaking Bad or get a juiced-up ball player to swat a couple dingers for me. I could blame my male pattern baldness on the chemo and for the first time in my life I could have someone look at me and go, “Now there’s a fighter.” Perhaps I could even score a “You’re my hero.” Who knows? The possibilities are endless. But the result is certain. I will die of cancer. I just hope the hospital has ice cream.