One bad lemon

Today I learned from a friend that the cancer she was being treated for had spread. This was I'm sure a shock to her as she'd been told her prognosis was better than most with pancreatic cancer as she had been a candidate for a special surgery only done when people had a good prognosis. Since the surgery in the Spring she has been through chemo and was undergoing radiation. She was about halfway through it I think and now this. As I write about this I can't really find words to describe not only how I felt when hearing this (no matter how bad it was undoubtedly a shadow of how bad she felt) but how impressed I was with her acceptance, grace and strength in the face of this. She says she has no intention of being anyone's lab rat now that the cards are on the table. She has no intention of prolonging her life if that life is spent sick to her stomach and unable to enjoy the company of family and friends. We all say this, but how often does that resolve fade away when faced with the unambiguous, real end of one's existence?

This person is very dear to me despite the fact that I hadn't seen her often in the last decade or so. I want to go back in time and make up for that; to spend time with her that isn't available. She taught me much in the 31 years I've known her, not the least of which was how to make lemonade when life handed you lemons. But this time by her own admission, she can't do it. No more lemonade. This is one really bad lemon. And one more lesson she's taught: the ultimate in blooming with grace and strength exactly where she is.

(As a note, this is not the same person I wrote about last month.)

Maybe the last summer

I was talking to a friend today who has a serious, incurable illness. She has been fighting it for as long as I have known her and does so with a grace that I could only hope to emulate. Not to say there aren't bad times - or more precisely - times that are horrifically worse than others - but throughout it all she has maintained a focus on the here. The now. The possible for the day.

But today, for the first time, she talked about her impatience with others who don't have time to do things that are important to her. Not in a whiny, "I never get my way" way, but in a steady voice that matter-of-factly stated that she was aware that this might be her last summer and she didn't want to spend it mowing the lawn and doing other mundane things. She wanted to eat ice cream and walk on the beach and she didn't want to do it alone.

Yes, she said, she was aware that none of us know when our end will come, but with an illness the size of Texas always hovering nearby it's harder to kid yourself that you are immortal. She doesn't typically fixate on her mortality, but every day brings her closer to it. That conversation was a sobering reminder that "living" - however each of us defines what brings us joy - is the operative part of our life as we walk inevitably to the end of time.

Passages

It's been a long time since my last post and a lot has happened. Most notably my half-brother's death. It was not unexpected. Nor was it particularly untimely. He had been suffering with cancer for quite a while and when I saw him in January it was obvious he was not well, and not going to be well again. So the timing, just two months after my arrival for a visit in January and just a few days before his 80th birthday was perhaps appropriate. I think in some way he chose his departure time...I believe that within boundaries we have that power.

With his passing the last of my nuclear family disappeared. Although I have nieces and a nephew and cousins and friends and colleagues - and will hopefully make more friends and have more colleagues in the future - the last of my family, those people who contributed mightily to making me, me, are now all gone. This doesn't happen to everyone. Someone in a family has to be the last one standing. And I am it for mine: the keeper of the memories of our lives.

So while his death was a release from earthly strife for him, it created a bit of a burden for me. A new role  and one that I don't particularly want. But, if it is like other things I haven't wanted and then got, being the memory keeper will make me a better person for having done it. I guess it is just another variety of blooming where you are planted. In this case, being planted at the end of the line.