My favorite Charlie's Angel died this morning in a California hospital. Just 62, Farrah Fawcett succumbed to a three-year battle with cancer.
Stupid cancer.
I hate cancer.
I hate cancer.
I hate cancer.
Along with nine million viewers on May 15, I watched Farrah's Story, an excellent docudrama chronicling Farrah's medical visits and hospital stays. The television special showed the needles and the blood and the vomiting; nothing was sugar-coated. At times it was painful to watch, as doing so brought back painful memories of watching cancer steal my dad's health.
Did I mention how much I hate cancer?
It pangs me to know that Farrah was not the recipient of the miracle she'd fervently prayed for.
Rest in peace, dearest Farrah.
About Me
- Kate
- Kansas City, Missouri, United States
- Last August, I turned 46. I am in the middle of my life's book. If I live to be 92, I am halfway done, and I find that truth to be highly motivating (there's so much more I want to do and accomplish!). However, I'm also feeling cranky: My children are all single, I don't have any grandbabies, I'm fat; I'm not publishing; I'm not teaching. What's the deal?
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1 comments:
pangs me to know that Farrah was not the recipient of the miracle she'd fervently prayed for.
Work from home India
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