By Ryan Dale Goddard
August 20, 1980 – August 2, 2010
Cancer you’re just a filthy word, the pain that you cause is absolutely absurd.
Most days I wish that you was a real person so I could inflict some tangible hurtin’.
Make you feel what my friends and family do, and all the bullshit you put me through. We still wouldn’t be close to par for the size of my belly scar.
I am gonna slaughter and murder you … tell is this chemo getting through to you.
I wont stop giving up aint no choice. I’m only one man but you will shudder at the sound of my voice. Putting you to a slow and painful end so when I act healthy from now on I wont have to pretend.
Hello.
In my disgust of you, I have decided to write you a letter. The numerous people which you have taken from the world, and the thousands you currently infect hate you just as much as I do and your days are numbered. As for you and I , you started it, you decided to grow in my colon, I assure you there was no invitation.
You may have already figured out that you picked the wrong victim because I am a survivor. You have met your match and I will not let you ruin me any further. The drugs I take may break me down, but they are slowly killing you. For the pain which you have caused my family and friends we will never be even but know this: I will break you.
I will keep chipping and chipping away at you with everything medicine and God provide and your existence will come to an end. I will go forward from this experience stronger and wiser than ever before and help many people and do many great things.
It’s only treatment 4 of 12 and I know it’s a tough road to come but this is your notice. Pack your bags, I am putting you in a body bag before you get the chance to claim one more. It’s on colorectal cancer, give me what you got—I got more.
Ryan Goddard’s story will be posted tomorrow, written by his wife, Ginny Goddard.