Earlier this year, a Japanese oncologist wrote his experience to a Japanese media, the one he got a cancer recently. In his writing, he thought "why me?" and "I was/am unlucky." The article' headlines were also e-printed with these two phrases. They reflected, probably, what the doctor had thought from the bottom of his heart. 

Reading it, the article reminded me of a scene of more than 20 years ago when I was a newspaper reporter. It was the time I was doing editor work at HQs in Tokyo. The memory is, I was sitting on a small chair, which faced to a larger oval table so that other editors and reporters were able to sit down with beer and snacks after the end of the day's work. Generally, the morning edition ends after midnight, around 1:00 am, when the "fun" time started. 

That day, I still remember. That day's editor-in-charge, who would become the president of the newspaper company, sat in the "birthday position", with many others surrounding him. The topic at the time was about a senior (to me at least) editor, who had died from a heart attack the few months before. The rumor had it that his family went to a hot spring in a rural area of his region. I had been knowing him personally. 

The editor-in-chief repeatedly but seriously said, "he was unlucky", referring to the senior. The other editors and reporters who surrounded the table were just forced to shut up against his tone, or shunned away from him. His words sounded like, something different from his true emotion, but from somewhere else from a heaven. More he talked, more I got frustrated, to the level of almost spelling out "what do YOU know about him!"

I quit the company a few years after it, but continued to hear nasty rumors about this editor-in-chief. 

Since then, "unlucky" became a phrase I hate the most. I can't help myself with things that are brought by luck. A heart attack is likely to happen to anyone. My brain tumor and colorectal cancer that has metastasized to the lungs can't be resisted. To the extent you keep living, there may have been some points in daily life to become aware of, or to realize "this is it!", but I don't know what they are. No one knows.

So am I out of luck? I do not think so. I have to accept what happened to me. We can only live by facing forward (not turning back). "Because I keep exercising" or "I haven't smoked in the past and now" are just excuses. It's all what happens to me now.

After writing this blog to the point here, I feel terribly sorry for my deceased senior, although he died a long time ago. He would never have had time to look back his life or leave something behind to his family. What was the situation when he died? How did the family accept it? Now I feel rage. 

(The photo was taken at Mita Hospital, Tokyo on February 3, 2021. Four MRI images are lined up in clock-wise, taken with permission from Dr. Tabei the attending physician. Red letters are added later. You can see the black shadow in the center of each red circle in the four images. In the November one (lower right), a white but slight piece of brain tumor was visible in the lower part of the black shadow, and the December (lower left) one reflected it with a little darker (meaning, whiter). "Well, at this point, it may be diagnosed as a surgical scar. But I am not sure and cannot conclude", said Dr. Tabei in last December. However, the white pieces disappeared in January of this year (upper right), and became beautifully none on February 3 (upper left). Observed are differences in shades, but all of them are from the same slice shooting of the darkness. To be continued.)