F♥️ck Cancer

By Vinny Lynch

When faced with a diagnosis of stage-four lymphoma, Vinny Lynch had to find a way out of the fear, anger, and anxiety that threatened to consume him. This is the story of how he learned to recall his soul and find a path towards peace, love, and self-acceptance.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vinny Lynch
• Release date: Mar 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224634606

Vinny Lynch

Vinny Lynch grew up in Derry, Ireland during the Troubles and moved to New York as a young man. He travelled extensively across America before moving back to Derry to raise his two children. He has worked in many different jobs from plastering to paddleboard instructor and in the arts as an actor in short films, docudramas, and plays. This is his debut as an author.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Fuck cancer!

He lost his breath as the pain surged through his left temple and down his lumpy jaw. He gasped again. Aw fuck, this is it, he thought, as he started to hyperventilate.

Keep it together, keep it together. He clenched his jaw.

Fuck cancer. Fuck cancer!

It was a Friday night and the Christmas tree was up.

No lights on yet. It would have to be watered and left overnight so that the branches would drop. Easier to put the lights on tomorrow, he thought.

Aw fuck, I’m not going to make it to tomorrow.

He grimaced, then managed a smile, then laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, lying on the couch laughing alone with the pain.

It was him, the tree, the fire, the dog, and the pain. Fuck cancer. Fuck cancer!

Move!!!

The word hit him like a sledgehammer.

Get up, get up de fuck, move and dance, try it, try anything ya dumb fuck. Faithless. Music Matters.

The beat coursed through him, and he began to feel stronger.

His whole body tingled as he raised his hands. He was channelling something from above.

Thank you, thank you.

And alone by the light of the fire he moved with a freedom he had never known. He let the music take him.

He started to box and dance and the music and movement made him forget. Fuck cancer, fuck cancer, he chanted as he punched.

As he imagined those two words in front of him his pace quickened, and it felt otherworldly. He could see his fists were hitting their mark and smashing the fuck outta cancer.

As the music ended and the letters smashed and dropped to the floor in a million pieces he knew it was good and pure, the gift he had just been given, the gift of music, dance and movement.

Thank you, Lord! Fuck cancer!

Chapter 2

Freedom

He got up in the morning a bit grumpy. It had been a bad night last night with the pain. Even the morphine didn’t help. I need to get out for a walk in the hills, he thought.

He’d been in and out of hospital all week and today was the one day he was free to be human again and not a pin cushion. He got his superpower yesterday; he was injected with radioactive material for his PET scan.

Fuck cancer.

Lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, just in time for Christmas. Yay, you lucky bastard. He smiled. It was good to smile. Right, get up, get some breakfast, and get out into the day.

He pulled into the garage. Some arsehole was taking too long to put air in his tyre. All I want is air in my front tyre. All he wanted was to get up into the hills alone away from the freak show that was his face: his Quasimodo forehead and Jabba the Hutt jaw.

Hurry up de fuck. Back into the shop again. You fucking twat.

The guy comes back out with a pack of fags in his hand. Good luck with that, he thought.

The two guys in the garage could spot his mood through the wraparound shades he was wearing at 7.30 on a grey winter’s morning.

Are you getting a good look at the freakshow? Fuck your sympathy.

He knew them. They probably meant well, but he wasn’t in the mood for pity.

He crossed the border. Donegal was his sanctuary. Who needs Notre Dame. Jesus, I need diesel. Another fucking filling station.

Determined to cover up his freakiness, he decided to put on a beanie hat, wraparound shades, and a face mask. He went into the shop to order a wrap. The girl behind the counter must have thought she was getting robbed. He could see her thought process. Do I run, put my hands up, or just ignore him? He decided to get a coffee and a scone instead, and just get away from the food counter. He tried to pay for the diesel but had to take his shades off and when he did he could see the sympathy in the girl’s face. And this time he accepted it with gratitude. From now on he would. not hide it.

As he drove into the hills of Donegal he could feel his spirit lift. He was alive. If only for a few hours, he would feel free again. He hit the accelerator as the car climbed the straightaway on the Buncrana side of the gap into the Urris Hills. Stairway to heaven, he thought. As he crested the top, the hills closed in on both sides and the road wound down the other side, opening up views of the sea, the hills, the beach, and the coastline. How magical is this place? And indeed it is called the Magic Road. He pulled into the little car park across from the grotto of Padre Pio and the Virgin Mary and there in the morning light, kneeling in prayer, he felt blessed in this special place. He hadn’t been much for praying or for the church but now he’d take all the help he could get.

The life-sized statue of Padre Pio in the half-light seemed to come alive. And he could feel a healing hand as he knelt before him in prayer.

He set off up the rough track into the hills. He could feel his lungs open up, feel the muscles in his legs strengthen and stretch. His shoulders and his mind be free! Only the climb and the views mattered. Nature’s peace would set him free as it always had. It was one of those mornings when the clouds hugged the hilltops. Stairway to heaven for sure, he thought. I’m in the clouds, in heaven, alone and free from all the prolonged stares and strange looks and free from all thoughts except the happiness and exhilaration of being here in the moment. Here in the clouds on the west coast of Ireland in the hills of Donegal.

Thank you, Lord!

As he climbed steadily higher he began to sing: "Heaven, I’m