Dear Stephen Moser,
I've never met you, and your column is hardly the first I read upon obtaining a Chronicle
. But I was saddened to learn that you have been diagnosed with prostate cancer [“After a Fashion
,” Arts, Nov. 16]. I wish you the best of luck in fighting this insidious disease.
I recall a headline from The Onion
: "Man Dies After Cowardly Battle With Cancer." Don't let this black humor header come to define you. Not everyone can fight cancer like Lance Armstrong did, with his middle finger raised, but neither should one collapse into disillusion and self-pity.
Fight the cancer the same way you have lived your life – with grace
. Thinking of getting a bed jacket? Buy seven for each day of the week. Doctor says you have to have your testicles removed? Have them replaced with the biggest fucking artificial orbs you can find.
Be true to yourself. And look down your nose at cancer as if it's some poorly dressed, uninvited guest at the party that is your life.
Best of luck, brother.