"I want off the bus" said Stephanie whilst breast cancer support group; I relate: I didn't buy a ticket for this ride, let me off! I imagined a school bus, wrought with adults yearning to arrive at their desired destination - anywhere besides contained in this claustrophobic vessel: The Cancer Trip. I wouldn't wish this detour on anyone; it's debilitating, terrifying, all-encompassing and cinches you in its grip, forever: there's no taking your seatbelt off and stepping off Pennsatucky's platform. If you're lucky enough to be temporarily released, you're paranoid, cognizant of its whereabouts, constantly looking over your shoulder, haunted by the threat of its return, like the ice cream truck that stalks hungry children; you cringe at the sound. We'd love to trade in our one-way ticket for Italy, Greece, Hawaii; yet we are strapped in, the chosen ones, weary of when we might be catapulted back. Ergo we are warriors: braver than Survivor, with an unfathomable will.