Cancer victimhood contains a permanent temptation to be self-centred and even solipsistic.

In which case, why not cancer of the brain? As a terrified, half-aware imbecile, I might even scream for a priest at the close of business, though I hereby state while I am still lucid that the entity thus humiliating itself would not in fact be “me.” (Bear this in mind, in case of any later rumors or fabrications.)

It's not at all good when your cancer is 'palpable' from the outside. Especially when, as at this stage, they didn't even know where the primary source was. Carcinoma works cunningly from the inside out. Detection and treatment often work more slowly and gropingly, from the outside in.

Not many people come through esophageal cancer and live to talk about it, or not for long.

I don't even like showing my stuff to publishers and editors much.

I feel upsettingly de-natured. If Penelope Cruz were one of my nurses, I wouldn't even notice.