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Blog criado por Bruno Coriolano de Almeida Costa, professor de Língua Inglesa desde 2002. Esse espaço surgiu em 2007 com o objetivo de unir alguns estudiosos e professores desse idioma. Abordamos, de forma rápida e simples, vários aspectos da Língua Inglesa e suas culturas. Agradeço a sua visita.

"Se tivesse perguntado ao cliente o que ele queria, ele teria dito: 'Um cavalo mais rápido!"

quinta-feira, 19 de dezembro de 2013

Rest in peace and we will try to get over it and move on!

I could have started this post by talking about many different kinds of warriors. I do love stories about them. No, no, this is not a text about knights or warriors, I mean, it is a post about a very specific fighter: my cousin.

If you have read until this second paragraph, you are about to understand what I meant about FIGHTER. Well, at least, you will have the opportunity to get the gist of the post because it will be displayed here for a long time, since this is certainly going to be the last one published here on Portal da Língua Inglesa this year.

I have lost a cousin to cancer very recently. In fact, he had been bravely fighting against sarcoma – four long years, just to be more precisely. I can surely say that he was a brave fighter.

I know how hard it might be to have a member of your family in need of treatment of a very serious and dangerous disease – cancer. Well, ever since we did realize it was a very serious thing to deal with, we tried everything that was possible to help him.

He was only twenty-four when he passed away last week. Looking at him and saying “everything is going to be all right” was one of the hardest things that I have ever had to say to someone (especially when you know it is not true!). It was hard enough to see him (many times) lying down on bed in a hospital. The oncologist had tried (for four years) everything he could in order to help him. Provided that he was very young to truly understand what was really happening, we tried to hide the worst news about his health for some time. Although, we knew he would eventually figure it out by himself someday. (And he did it).  

Well, I don’t want to bother anyone with this heavy history about the shots (‘injections’ if you like it) he had to get, the medicine and the like. In mean, it's terrible when all you can do is watch helplessly as someone dies - especially someone you love.

I’d rather say that I have learned something from this whole situation. I did research in order to understand cancer better. I am obviously not an expert or something like that, but I know now that this kind of thing has been more, say, usual than we think.

Watch this video and try to understand what cancer is:

Cancer will strike more than ten million people worldwide this year. It is estimated that there will be fifteen million new cases every year by 2020. World Health Organization)

As you could noticed – after watching the video – that there are many types of cancers: sarcomas, leukemias, lymphomas, carcinomas... 

I have asked this question on my profile on QUORA and a person named Geoffrey Walton, who considers himself a “single father of two amazing boys, nine and seven. UNIX ninja with degrees in American Literature”, replied to it with this beautiful history about his daddy:

My father was 74 when they told him that he had liver cancer. Two weeks later, they told him it was inoperable; that he had, perhaps, 90 days to live. A few days later, he had his first chemotherapy. He said it was terrible, and decided it would also be his last.
The doctors told him he was foolish, that chemo would prolong his life. His reply was consistent, "I will live longer, but I will feel terrible. Better is better." Their arguments were persuasive: you'll be in terrible pain, you'll be in and out of the hospital constantly, you'll need extensive medication and may be out of your mind. His reply was succinct, "I don't think so."
Dad lived 16 months; he made it one month past his 45th wedding anniversary. He went to the hospital for regular checkups, but nothing more. He never took pain meds, nor appeared to need them. He was lucid - and pleasant - until one day he fell asleep in his own bed, holding my mother's hand, and didn't wake up.
Better is better.

Having read this answer to my question: What is better in life, quality or quantity? Reminded me of my cousin and the whole thing he had to pass through. I mean, I expected something completely different from that response, but it made me feel how reassuring it was to know that even in such bad moments I could find motivation to carry on. Sometimes we all need a little extra motivation to go on – it is hard, I know, but necessary.

I could finish this last post by saying many things, but right now, I prefer to say goodbye and rest in peace, my dear friend.

Mazurkiewiz de Almeida Martins
In some instances, I have been unable to trace the owners of the pictures used here, and I would appreciate any information that would enable me to do so. Thank you very much. 

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