Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Dearest God,

My friend lay on her hospital bed at 3:30 a.m. Dozing with the help of vicodan, her body no longer holds the breast cancer that was extracted hours earlier. I stayed the night to help with her recovery.

My mind wanders back nearly ten years. My friend and two daughters were shocked to learn of my diagnosis of breast cancer. But they did not let that hinder them from helping me walk through some of the darkest, scariest days of my life. They were always there for me. During surgery they waited the eight hours until the doctor finally came out to give a report.

During my hospital stay they remained in my room around the clock, aiding me in my recovery. Surgery had been long and arduous. Not a friend to anesthesia, I had difficulty coming around. And then there was the fever and special problems. One of them was with me.

When I returned home with four tubes and a challenging recovery ahead, one of them stayed with me, caring for my wounds, providing meals, helping bathe me, speaking words of encouragement. They nursed me to health. I will never forget. I will always remember.

And now ten years later my friend lay in her hospital bed. My own mind remembers the thoughts, fears, questions, doubts that cancer brings. I knew my own answers before my friend asked her questions. I shared my answers, one by one.

I look at Cindy and I thank God for my friend. I pray for her and her family. With some questions unanswered, waiting on additional tests and the final word from the pathologist, it can be difficult. You don't breathe deeply until you feel safe to do so. An all-clear message gives the impetus to take a long, deep breath and take a nap resting easy after a few weeks of hearing the diagnosis, surgery, and waiting for pathology reports.

The doctor said my friend will have to have chemo, radiation and maybe additional surgery. Each step is a reminder of her mortality, her reliance on medical professionals, family and friends' support and a greater need to freshen her relationship with you. I watch her sleep and I know the days ahead will be trying. She will wonder if she will ever get through it all. She will question if the cancer will come back, this time more virulent and demanding. She will weep silently and pray for her family as they make their own journey with her cancer.

Life is precious and fragile. At any time, anywhere a life can be snuffed out and pass from this life to the next. But this is the life cycle. No one is exempt. We will all make the trek.

I look at my friend, grateful that they caught the cancer early and they could do surgery. Grateful too for the doctor, drugs and equipment that will help save her life from the ravages of cancer. Glad she lives in this century and not in the last. I am grateful for my friend.

I believe
you are holding
my friend
right now.
I believe
that you sing the song
of faith to her.
I believe
you are whispering
words of hope
to her.
I believe
you are opening her eyes
to a new perspective
on life.
I believe
your love
will make her well.
I believe.

Love, Andrea