JAN 14 — When the comic strip Dilbert first came out, it was so relatable to anyone who had ever worked an office job.
Dilbert, Dogbert, the Pointy-haired boss — Scott Adams created a cast of characters that were so true to life, the comic strip becoming a balm of sorts to the weary office peon.
So it was disappointing when the world eventually discovered Adams was pretty much a piece of s--t.
Adams was virulently racist, as his posts on X seemed to prove, while also frequently sharing misogynistic and sexist viewpoints on the platform as well; a living caricature of the worst of US Conservatives.
When he was diagnosed with prostate cancer of course he decided to again thumb his nose at the establishment and refused the standard medical protocol for the disease, instead choosing to take ivermectin, Joe Rogan and the anti vaxxing community's favourite cure-all (never mind there was no evidence that it cured more than a bad case of worms... in horses).
By the time he figured out that his so-called informed choice was a terrible one, his cancer had progressed to a late stage.
He even begged the Trump administration to put him on the priority list for an experimental cancer treatment.
US health secretary Robert F Kennedy Jr had even reached out to him on X, saying that "the President wants to help."
It's tragic and also rather enraging that Elon Musk's DOGE and Trump himself had cut off funds to various cancer research and funding endeavours, likely harming hundreds to thousands of Americans, but would give special priority to someone like Adams.
I had no shame about jumping from private to semi-public to public healthcare, going wherever I thought my chances/funding would be better and I think that if it's within your capability to get a second opinion, it is wise — so you can at least have some peace of mind.
Yet all through my treatment I was approached by faith healers, given links to purchase soursop leaves and sent "magic" cancer-curing bark but I had read enough about people who had more money than sense spending it all on "alternative" treatments and only seeking actual doctors once it was too late.
Adams' death might at least serve a higher purpose, which is to be yet another example of what happens when you don't listen to your doctor when the C-word comes up.
I chose to believe my oncologists, chose to look at the thousands of cancer patients who had gone down similar paths to mine and unlike Adams, lived to tell the tale.
With just two more immunotherapy sessions remaining, I am now preparing for my transition to "normal" life and being a former cancer patient.
Yet that normal will not be the normal I once knew.
My much hated activity — exercise — will now be my daily companion because research has proven that it will lower my chances of a cancer recurrence.
I did not take the deworming medicine; I will never take any dewormer that isn't sold at a local pharmacy.
If it seems callous for me to remember Adams this way, when I once had a collection of Dilbert books and knick-knacks, I think it is far worse that public figures mislead the public about making the best decisions for their health.
Goodbye Scott Adams. I wish you had lived a better life so you would have had better things written about you when you died.
Say no to the worm medicine, kids.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
