Don’t ever get mouth cancer.
There is a sweet, little old lady in our hospital right now. She drowses through most days and nights – sometimes for a change she will get out of bed and sit in her chair, but still she drowses. She can talk alright, but she can’t open her mouth very far. She gets mouthwashes every 2 hours, and she says it “stings like billy-oh”. She has mucositis from her radiotherapy, so her entire mouth is ulcerated and bleeding, and thick saliva strings between her lips when she talks. Her mouth looks like that of a monster, but she is a sweet, little old lady. And she cannot deserve this.
There is a sweet, little old lady in our hospital right now. She drowses through most days and nights – sometimes for a change she will get out of bed and sit in her chair, but still she drowses. She can talk alright, but she can’t open her mouth very far. She gets mouthwashes every 2 hours, and she says it “stings like billy-oh”. She has mucositis from her radiotherapy, so her entire mouth is ulcerated and bleeding, and thick saliva strings between her lips when she talks. Her mouth looks like that of a monster, but she is a sweet, little old lady. And she cannot deserve this.
In our lectures we were taught the causes of mouth cancer, we memorised mnemonics; we learned to frown upon alcohol, cigarettes, and uh, ‘loose living’. I came to believe that everyone with mouth cancer had earned it, somehow. But this lovely lady ... she doesn’t deserve this. She can’t.
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