When I was in high school, a girl, let's call her Tina, told me in the locker room before gym that she had cancer. Not only that, but that her parents weren't supportive of her diagnosis and would not be helping her get treatment. I, being the mark that I am, ran back to my friends sharing the information in hopes to organize some sort of fundraiser, and stat! My friends looked me like I was an idiot: "Tina does not have cancer. If it were true, her parents wouldn't refuse to get her treatment." The next day, back in the locker room, Tina seemed upset. "You OK?" I asked, still unsure if she was fighting for her life or not. "Yeah, I'm fine," she started. "Just pissed off. Apparently someone is going around telling people I have cancer?!"
And we never spoke of it again.
The phenomenon of faking cancer is nothing new to me. I experienced a lie first hand. I witnessed Vicky Gunvalson's boyfriend Brooks on The Real Housewives of Orange County bamboozle their costars with a fake cancer prognosis. I followed the whole Gypsy Rose thing. And I've listened a few podcasts on the matter too, like Scamanda. So when I heard about a mini documentary series about a cancer scammer who wrote for Grey's Anatomy, I was like, *shrug*, been there done that. But when my reality TV text thread starting blowing up about "Finchie this" and "Finchie that," I knew I had watch. Cut to one day later, and my jaded jaw is still on the floor.
