After my friend was diagnosed with cancer last year, I tried to be there for her and her son as much as I could. Together with her parents, who flew in from Japan, and her other friends, I tried to turn the summer into a series of happy diversions for the little guy while his mom went through chemo and radiation.
And although she seemed tired and overwhelmed at times, she never let on, just how serious her situation was. And all of us, I think, gladly believed her. We wanted to hold on to our delusional state as long as possible, and she was generous.
I don’t know how she did it. Now that I know the type of cancer and the stage, I am a wreck.
About six weeks ago, we had a couple of long conversations just before she had to undergo major surgery and shortly after. While we sat at her dining room table, we talked about options for treatment and I promised to dig around in recent publications and on the internet. I signed her up for the MayoClinic cancer newsletter and found a clinic near her hospital that complements the therapy with holistic treatments.
On our more realistic days, I began looking for a box to fill with objects, letters, and smells that will remind her son of her, and she ordered the book “My life without Me.” Together, we have tried to grasp the incomprehensible by managing it in a to-do format. Everything is a project, and for every problem, there is a solution.
Except there isn’t.
She has started the next round of chemotherapy, a very aggressive 41/2 month program that will leave her body weak and bald. Not a good, but alas a last chance.
Shortly before Christmas, a few weeks after her second scan which came back negative, we had toasted to her recovery.
1 comment:
Not an easy story, but an uplifting one.
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