It’s been that sort of day.
Last night, before we went to bed, I was on Facebook when I saw the following:
“K was released from the clinical trial late last week because the cancer has gotten too bad. He enters hospice now. Please pray for him and his family.”
K and G were college roommates and brothers in the same fraternal organization in college.
K and his wife were married a few months before G and I were.
K is someone I always think of as the guy I met during a college tour my junior year of college when we both happened to be at the college at the same time. I remember him vividly because you could tell he was uncomfortable with the way his mother was dragging him there – the facade they were trying to project. It was almost comical to me how the facade was something most saw through.
K has three kids – his oldest has had cancer dominate his thoughts over the past two years – the younger two are, well, elementary school young. They have no real idea.
This has hit both G and I hard. This is our first college friend who we will lose to, well, anything.
A milestone neither of us were ready for – a milestone we wish upon no one.
Our Facebook feeds today have had scatterings of friends asking for thoughts and prayers to go his way – to his family. Cancer has been ever present.
This morning G got a weird, vague message from his parents – “we need to see you after you get out of school today – it’s both good and bad news”…..that was it.
His parents have a gift for making small things look like huge things and visa versa. Truly with their history, this could have been anything from “you scuffed the curb in front of our house and we are upset” to “your aunt died”. I do not exaggerate.
We fretted all day. Did someone they know see him with his girlfriend? Did someone they know see me with SB? Did the girls break something that we didn’t know about? Did G forget to do something he had promised.
None of the above.
His mom has cancer. Aggressive breast cancer – early detection – all plans are off.
No more trips to SE Asia.
Instead – 8 months of chemo followed by one month of daily radiation – then followed by surgery to remove the lump. She goes in to have the port installed in a few days – she starts chemo after that. There is no fucking around. They have to attack this thing – attack it hard – and hope for the best.
Hope for the best.
In both cases, G is like “what do I do – I need to do something”……..and all I can say is “be there if you can – there is nothing YOU can do to change this course…..it will be what it is – all you can do is hold hands and support.”
And that is the fucking thing that sucks about all of this – cancer – crohn’s – whatever the disease that fucks with those we love – all we can do is watch, support, hold hands, and put our energy into hoping for the best instead of worrying about the worst.
Energy flows where the attention goes.
We feed the outcome by our energy – our worries – our focus.
But that’s the part that really fucking sucks….with cancer – it doesn’t seem to matter. It seems to thrive on smacking people alongside the head. And that is what sucks worse. That element of surprise –
Too many people I know right are are dealing with this.
I guess I just feel like “when it rains, it pours”.
So I leave you with this….
Because sometimes laughter and smiles and love is the only thing that can get us all through this shit.