Prognosis may have changed but cancer heroes remain the same

If you were diagnosed with cancer, you were goosed. Gone. Ready to pop your clogs. Not anymore, writes Terry Prone

THE best thing about the Irish Cancer Society is that they didn’t do a KFC. You know the way when the obesity issue first began to gain prominence, the word “fried” became evil? Back then, the Kentucky Fried Chicken people decided to go for initials. They took out the reference to Kentucky, their state of origin, presumably to remove all association with the deep-fried culinary tradition of the American Deep South. They took out the dirty F word. They even took out the bird word, which seemed a bit OTT, unless you are given to conspiracy theories, in which case you assume that sooner or later, you’ll buy a bucket of fried something and that something may be — well, let’s not go there.

KFC rebranded and not a murmur came from Kentuckians, fried food aficionados or the chicken advocacy people. They rebranded so seamlessly that a friend of mine was astonished, recently, to find out that chicken was actually involved in the KFC offering. (Admittedly, this friend is one of those awful people who talks about “eating clean” so essentially, if it’s not raw and unpeeled, she doesn’t know about it.) The Irish Cancer Society never followed this example, despite the fact that their title has a word in it that knocks “fried” to the bottom of the bucket as a fear maker. Cancer is a heart-stopper word. Or was, when the Irish Cancer Society started up. Back then, if you were diagnosed with cancer, you were goosed. Gone. Ready to pop your clogs. And possibly committed to concealing what was wrong with you, because cancer had a weirdly pejorative connotation.