NoJoMo #5

Today I spoke to my friend C.  I haven’t spoken to her in close to two years, not for any particular reason – we just kind of drifted apart, and neither of us had made the effort to get back in touch.  Last year (on Facebook) I learned that her sister had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and then a few weeks ago when my friend R was visiting he told me he’d heard her cancer had come back and she was effectively terminal now. I emailed C straight away and finally got a chance to talk to her today. 

Her sister is indeed terminal – she has the same kind of cancer that killed Elizabeth Edwards, and apparently there is no chance for remission.  Her life expectancy at this point is anywhere from six months to two years.  She’s 42 years old, and she and her husband have three kids (ages 10, 7, and 4).  I didn’t know her as well as I know C, but she always struck me as a really great person, and this is just tremendously sad.  Her little girl is the same age as Sophie, and when I think of Sophie having to grow up without me I could just cry.

Her husband is a great guy, but he’s going to have so much to deal with during her illness and even more after she’s gone.  C says he’s been phenomenal so far.  I knew him pretty well too back when we all lived in Miami, I wish they lived closer so I could be of some assistance – but they’ve been living in Boston for the past few years, and since that’s where his job is, he has no plans to move.  

My heart just hurts for both of them.

Ironically, at this awful time, something wonderful has happened to C.  She went to NYC to spend a weekend with her sister, and they went to dinner with the sister’s husband and some of his colleagues – and she met M, and they connected in a very meaningful way.  She so deserves this happiness, and I’m so glad he’s there to support her in this difficult time.  I just wish she could have found the happiness without the horror of her sister’s death looming over her. 

She told me most of the time she’s okay with it; she’s talked to her sister at great length, and knows she isn’t afraid of death (it’s just leaving her kids that terrifies her, understandably so).  Right now, her sister is trying some experimental types of chemo, and hopefully this will give her a good quality of life for whatever time she has left.  C says it will be harder when she really takes a turn for the worse; I remember all too clearly seeing my brother-in-law on his deathbed, and I agree. 

Hold your friends close, people. It shouldn’t have taken something like this for me to reach out to C – but I’m glad I did.