I can abide throwing cancer at a 12-year old girl. I can see the silver lining of the character-building that can happen from such a battle, both for the patient and her friends and family. I can see the reminder that life is brief and precious and we should enjoy every minute of it we get. But to have the girl beat it after a long and hard battle, but then let it come back Independence Day-style and kill her in eight weeks? That makes me want to throw down a gauntlet and yell, "What the fuck, pal?!!"
I'm reminded again of Jed Bartlet's speech at the end of "Two Cathedrals".