I can breathe again

The last few weeks have been weighing heavily on me.  My dear friend was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.  CANCER the word alone frightens me, and to have someone so young, so vibrant be afflicted was hard for me to wrap my head around.  Not only was she ill, but there was a chance she’d be going away, for the longest stretch yet.  Since she hasn’t live here permanently for a long period of time, she’s not covered by our provincial health care.  It’s not free (we pay for it in our taxes), but it’s there when we need it.  One of the drawbacks of it is that there tend to be some long wait times.  When you have cancer, the wait times are frightening.  Because of all of this, she was considering doing her treatment in Australia.  She has a good friend there, who’s also a cancer survivor and would be invaluable to her, through the process.   The wait times are much shorter there as well.  I knew she was leaning towards Australia and I knew it was going to be a 5 year commitment to her health, and even while she was going through the fight of her life, she’d be on the other side of the world.  I’d miss her, epically.

From the moment she told me all of this all I could respond with was “whatever you feel is best” or “wherever you’re going to get the best care is my vote”.  I had to make sure she made the best decision for herself.  Of course I wanted her here.  I want her close so I can hold her hand when her eyelashes are gone.  We can share a bottle of wine (or two) and talk about what we’re going to do when she “fights like a girl and kicks cancer’s ass”.  I wanted her to be here so I could help be strong for her; as she’s always been strong for me when I needed her.  She’s been so many things to me throughout the years, but above all, she’s been a friend and I want to be one for her too.

She’s chosen here for her treatment.  A wonderful friend in her life apparently pulled some strings and got her pushed up on the schedule.  She had a great meeting with her team at the hospital about time lines and plans and all the details and it made her feel good about choosing here.  I almost exploded with happiness.  Happy that she has finally chosen and has begun a plan.  Happy that she sounds eager to do this.  Happy that she’ll be here and not on the other side of the world for the next 5 years.   I feel so much relief, and I will do EVERYTHING in my power to help her through this.

I didn't even shed a tear

Sometimes I wonder if I'm broken.  If my normal meter is off.  This past weekend the Marvelous Miss M came up for a Christmas party.  I had a wonderful time hanging out with her.  Watching the little gifts interact with her.  There was tons of laughter, tons of wine and blissful happiness like there always is when she's around.

Then, after the little gifts were in bed, and my husband was off sampling beers at a friends, in the middle of my kitchen, she dropped the bomb.  It was cancer.  I knew there was something, but I was giving her the space to tell me in her own way.  Breast cancer, stage 2.  I hugged her, that was my first reaction, then tried to ask questions and let her tell the story.  The Queen of Irony proceeded to tell me who knew, and who was stepping up to help.  We talked all night, I sobered up VERY quickly at the news, and simply listened as she talked.  Quiet tears rolled down her cheeks every once in a while.

I listened, I wondered what I could do to help.  For some reason, and I'm not sure if it's denial or faith, but I'm not scared.  I KNOW she's going to pull through this.  I know she'll be at my wedding reception next year, drinking with FCW and running interference with my mother.  I know she'll spend weekends with us through the years.  She'll see the boys go to University and get married themselves.  

She's one year older than me, she's one of my favourite people in the world.  She's helped me become the person I am today, and come hell or high water, I'm going to do whatever I can to help her through this.