It's interesting how many times I have heard this in response to news that my cancer has spread and is now incurable. "I know it might be trite but any one of us could get run over by a bus tomorrow." It's meant as a solace - that we none of us really know how long is our allotted span. It is true and it is hard to argue with. I've been trying to work out why I find it so irritating.
I think it is to do with horizons and how cancer brings them right up close.
At 52 and with children at school, my horizons should encompass seeing them through their exams and off to university or into a job and independence. It should encompass the possibility of them leaving home and may be of weddings, choosing an outfit that suits the mother of the bride and imagined grandchildren. It should encompass a life after children and plans for retirement and travelling with my husband. That's what my fiends are imagining in their futures. Sure, none of this can be taken for granted but it's part of the painting that rolls out in front of us when we think about the future.
Except that it doesn't when you have incurable cancer. The canvas is altogether sparser.
So for my friends whose lives are going on uninterrupted by cancer, the hypothetical bus that could end it all is just one thing trundling across this future canvas. It might even be vintage, prettily painted for a day at the seaside. For the person with incurable cancer, it can sometimes feel like the bus has already run me down.
So please don't tell me any one of us could be run over by a bus. You are right - but you are also so very far off the mark.
