Everything Will Kill You

Cigarettes, dry-cleaning solvent, radon, lead paint, asbestos, DDT, mercury fillings, tuna – that's all old news.

Now we got smoking bans, and not just in California. Even Europeans are catching on.

We got alternative dry cleaners. We got radon abatement. We got lead-free paint. It starts fading and chipping the day after it dries, but that's beside the point.

We got rid of that bad, evil asbestos. Of course, it's still in lots of homes in that bane of 1970s-era decor – popcorn ceilings. But if you're thinking of removing it yourself, you'd better get it tested first.

On second thought, you'd better not get it tested or you'll have to disclose the result when you sell, and I promise that disclosure will get a lot more attention from buyers than the standard wall-of-legalese waivers they sign at closing.

Of course, you could spend your daughter's education fund to have it removed by experts, but then again you just might decide to leave the ceiling alone. Every time you feel offended by the dim gray that used to be white, just get out your folder of asbestos-removal bids and have a look, and then you'll love it again.

But – yay! – no more asbestos in new homes. Just dry wall made in China. Which, it turns out, emits sulfuric gas and rots copper coils as well as plumbing and electrical wires and pipes.

DDT? Banned! But now we got other problems. (See lettuce, below.) And all that nice, fresh fruit in your grocery store? If it came from down south, be sure to scrub it good.

As for the mercury fillings that so many people were having drilled out of their mouths a while back, turns out they're not harmful after all. And the plastic fillings that replaced those drilled-out mercury fillings? They contain BPA, also known as bisphenol A. Uh oh.

Speaking of mercury, that good old kitchen staple – tuna fish – is getting more toxic.

As for hamburger, well, we'd gotten used to unsettling news on the beef front a few years ago during the Mad Cow scare, but now the fear has been ratcheted up to the stratosphere by the recent New York Times story about a 22-year-old dance instructor paralyzed by a hamburger infected with E. coli. See my colleague Joann Weiner's column, Tainted Burgers: Plenty to Chew On.

The bad news just keeps coming.

Tap water? Be careful. Bottled water? Our friend BPA again. Even lettuce? I'm afraid so. And potatoes. Check out my colleague Domenica Marchetti's column Spud Is Among the Riskiest Foods.

The shower head in your house. Sadly, your little karaoke sanctuary is not safe.

CDs? BPA again. It's in vinyl floors, too. And, well, virtually everywhere. Even cash register receipts.

It's beginning to look like everything in sight is malignant.

Welcome to my world.

When I'd make my weekly trip to the oncologist after my diagnosis of ovarian cancer in 2001, my nurse prepared my chemo concoction just ten feet away from me in the far end of the room. She had to put on so much gear she looked like a haz-mat specialist – all to mix a chemical that would soon enter my body.

In the bathroom was a sign instructing me to put the lid down and flush twice. To protect everyone else, doncha know. Yikes. I didn't get radiation, but I'm sure the cancer patients who did were not comforted by the warning signs they encountered.

I'm not the type to soft-pedal cancer. It's a horrendous disease. I can't stand people who go around touting the joys of cancer. Did they get their training at the Ministry of Truth? Or perhaps the Pyongyang Times?

But I will say this: Survival statistics below 20 percent will cause an attitude adjustment. Once the panic subsides – which can take years, sorry to say – a kind of peace envelops you. Every day you wake up, your first thought is: Hey, I'm alive.

I'm alive despite cancer. Despite chemo. Despite tap water I drank yesterday. Despite wine, cheese, salad, french fries. And checking my receipts.