Something awoke me just before 4:00am this morning. I lay there listening. the listening turned to thinking –thinking’s not what I wanted, I craved sleep.
Later, after the girls and C. rose to bicker over what cereal combo to break their fast with, I headed over to the beach with Lucy…to think.
The other day C contacted her colleague and now “cancer twin”, SN: weirdly, she was diagnosed a few months before C. with the same form of breast cancer. From our perspective SN has been ahead of the curve, although much more waiting for diagnosis, treatments, surgery –she’s had to wait and wait all along the way. Anyway she’d gone in for a checkup with her onc after some coughing spells and visions problems –the onc ordered scans and met with her on Friday to discuss the results.
This morning as I prepared for the dog walk, C. received an e-mail from SN. The kids yelled as they gobbled down as much cereal as possible; I tried my as-usual unsuccessful bid to spread a sense of calm. I noticed C. shuddering, looking down, tear drops falling on the iPhone in her lap. I looked at the screen–the title of the e-mail: Bad News.
Hugs all around, the kids shuffling in for long sweet embraces. Lucy and I headed out.
The reality with cancer is it’s a fucking rat-bastard that drags us into a take no prisoners war. Sure we fight, win battles and the war rages on. We constantly have to be ready to rally the troops, fortify our defenses, and FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT.
Many thoughts skipped across my consciousness as I stared out to sea trying to catch sight of a much more elusive monster, Cadborosaurus. It started to rain, then I realized the sky was clear and I was crying. Crying for SN, who hoped, prayed and deserved to win this war. We know now she has more battles to fight. No truce, no quarter given, kill the fucking rat-bastard. Crying for SN, for C., for me, for S. and F., Nana, Popa. Crying for us all.
The tears are dry: we’re ready for whatever. Bring it on you fucking rat-bastard.
