No humor. There’s really not any humor with cancer. Met up with a buddy tonight, early 30’s, good guy.. extremely family orientated.. his mom, early 60’s, diagnosed a bit ago with cancer.. chemo, radiation.. gone.. for awhile it was gone.. a recent test.. metastasised.
She, for years an oncology nurse… asked her son.. “Do you know the odds of me being alive in three years?”… He knew the answer… He caught her words “don’t bullshit me… I know.” Squirming for an answer, “mom, miracles happen.”
Tuesday of this week, they had a sit down with the Oncologist. A serious talk. “But you know what? Those test results don’t mean anything. They could, in fact, be wrong.” His method of seeking “get up and fight this bastard, you just never know.”
She hasn’t. Isn’t eating. Staying up nights vomiting, even without chemo. I perceived, she’s giving up. Friend, who makes a moderate income, spoke of trying to borrow $5000 from his well to do uncle (with intent to pay back).. to buy a trip for his mother/father, some place cool.. Mom/dad, been together since teens… “Vic, when they were 16-17, they’d already been together three or four years…. She’s my Dad’s everything.
I wasn’t very good in knowing what to say. “Hey, sounds to me you’re doing everything you can the right way. Please go home and Google “cancer miracles” and I bet you’ll find a long, long list. (And I just did, and it is.).. I have a very good friend who is a Nurse Practitioner that works at a Children’s Hospital. There is so much admiration of her from so many of us… I cannot imagine her feelings driving into work, driving home from work… attending a fun event, trying to block ‘the bastard’ out.. laying down at night.. trying to fall asleep, escaping ‘the bastard’.
I don’t know what I’d do if I learned my time here was short. I believe I would spend as much time as I could with my son, his fiance, and my gorgeous (I’m biased) granddaughter.. I would write (NO, not YOU Victor!) those in my life that have touched me, and give thanks. I would make arrangements for my departure, as if planning for a ‘party’ and having it all arranged, paid for, before it happened.
I couldn’t begin to guestimate my mental state. I think my eyes would be opened with greater appreciation for virtually anything/everything. I’m not good at much in life, but I’d like to think I’m “kick ass” in observance. Knowing days were numbered would even heighten this.
We’ve all been led to tears by cancer. For me, sister, grandmother, uncles, aunts, many friends, classmates, coworkers. Just last week, lost a giant of a man – ‘the bastard’ reduced his final days to 100 lbs. Many of you now are perhaps going thru this battle, and that saddens us all.
Again, I didn’t have any great answers for my friend. Our ‘team”, who visited my sister @ St. Lukes Hospital 72 consecutive days in her battle, had the war cry “beat the bastard.” My sister was spirited until the very end – and I hope my buddy’s mom grasps some spirit. One of the proudest days of my life was the day before my sister expired, barely cognitive, very little speech at the end.. that evening when I walked in, she looked up, smiled, and said “baby brother!”.
Again, there are no right answers on what to say, what one would do… I pray for anyone going thru this, or having a loved one/friend going thru this… I pray for a some day cure – where cancer will be in our rear view mirror, and Wiki will tell us “before the cure for cancer occurred in the year _____..................”
Love………… ‘cause love is a good thing, Victor
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