Vegans never ever get cancer. Never EVER! That's right folks, a vegan diet is the perfect magic bullet against all disease. If you would like to have a perfect, cellulite-free body, you should go vegan. The second you embrace a plant-based diet, all your fat will instantly melt away and you'll be able to strut the beach in a lumpy, G-string Speedo/three strategically-placed pasties with nary a jiggle. Your disease-proof body will be free for at least a hundred years of diabetes, cancer, heart disease, chronic fatigue, moles, warts, and mosquito bites. In fact, bullets will bounce off you as if you were wearing a vest and your farts will smell like Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb, or at worst, a Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb knockoff.
If you believe the above, I've got a nice bridge to sell you for only three million dollars cash (unmarked bills). It's extremely well-located in Brooklyn, New York.
Bratty teenagers who throw epic tantrums because Mommy won't stand in line for 48 hours buy them a new X-Box console are correct in one sentiment. Life is unfair. Life sucks. For this reason and this reason alone, vegans who have spent a good part of their lives devoted to saving animals (even when they exhaust all of their physical, mental, and monetary resources to make sacrifices for animal individuals) get cancer.
When a vegan gets cancer, it's hard to imagine who is more of an @55hole to her face, the non-vegan or the vegan. Because of our cultural need to believe in panaceas, the non-vegan will immediate blame the vegan's plant-based diet for her ailment and fatuously arrive at the conclusion that a little bit of addictive, juicy corpse-flesh would set her on the road to recovery. Never mind that vegans get less cancer, diabetes, heart disease, MS, etc. than people on a meaty diet to begin with, just toss statistics out the window, whatever works.
I personally think some vegans can be worse to the cancer-sufferer, taking on the officious, uninvited role of health advisor simply because they had the good fortune not to be struck down by bad luck in the Universal Lotto or the heavy amounts of radiation, phthalates, dioxins, and toxic wastes that proliferate in our modern environment. Because in their demented little minds, cancer could never happen to them. They're 80/10/10 raw! They do coffee enemas! They eat a small truckload of greens and fruit a day! They work out!
Sometimes thirty bananas a day just isn't enough to combat, oh, I dunno, Fukushima-level radiation. And you'd be amazed how much cover-up exists to obscure the Superfund-candidate site lurking under the city where you live. Suzanne Antonetta, author of Body Toxic: An Environmental Memoir grew up on the Jersey shore in the fifties. In her memoir, she documents a plethora of dumpers, polluters, and nuclear wasters who effectively poison the area where she lives until it becomes a hotbed of cancer clusters, chronic disease, and mental disorders. Antonetta finds that she is not immune, suffering a miscarriage of quadruplets in her spectacularly deformed double uterus that puts the bow on her lifelong infertility.
There is also the insufferably stupid assumption cancer didn't exist before a certain era. People have always gotten cancer.
Yet some vegans can't take a step back, gain some perspective, and use their supposed empathy and imaginations to ask, "What if I get cancer?"
I can tell you what will happen if I get cancer. I will not blame myself or my plant-based diet. I will not start eating animals or their reproductive secretions again. I would rather eat a gun than go back to the Land of Cognitive Dissonance where eating and torturing my friends is okay for the sake of personal benefit. If science suddenly does a complete 180 and shows eating corpses and fatty, congealed titty-squirts and chicken menses is healthy for human beings, then I will happily wither and die for the sake of the animals.
I will make every attempt to eat clean and green. Maybe I'll feel better, like this ethical vegan did. Or maybe I won't. Maybe my cancer will advance and I'll die a horrible death of it anyways. Because radiation. Or because I ate that second hot dog in 1979. Or because not enough coffee enemas. Or because life is just unfair. I love animals and I'll die not eating or using them even if it kills me, so are we cool? Yeah? Then STFU.