The anger I'm talking about isn't my more common experience of annoyance, irritation, or the indignation that arises when my ego has been bruised. No. This is the anger that arose when I found myself surrounded by foes ---- squaring off against cancer flanked by mercenary and unpredictably dangerous treatments. Rage. I have let the rage burn, working to neither squelch it nor exaggerate it, just to let it be. Rage can be glorious! It showered sparks when I wanted to give up; lit the path when it got dark; and singed the edges of medical establishment when necessary. It pushed me and still pushes me to be myself, to live my life, to stand up to BS in all of its forms (both internal and external), and to take nothing for granted. Its an ally, and I am grateful for its presence.