Avoidance
I sat here today, hand on the phone, trying to work up the nerve. I haven't spoken to her in days... possibly weeks. Okay, maybe just two weeks - but had it really been that long? It might have. What do I say? She hadn't called me, either. Knowing MaryAnn, I'm placing a huge bet that she doesn't want company, she didn't feel like talking, she's being strong, or stubborn, or just pretending. However, having been through grief myself, I know that sometimes human contact is welcome, even if not desired. The attention creeps up on you, and by the time you tell them thank you, you realize that you did need it, after all.
So, I called her. I don't know if I was avoiding her and her situation, or if it was mutual, but she wasn't cold, at least not completely. I sort of apologized, and she sort of acknowledged that she hadn't really been interested in company anyway. The results of her bone scan showed the cancer is in her bones; ribs and right femur. What they had originally proposed as a 'cure' (!) has quickly spiraled down to just getting her into remission. She starts chemo on monday.
Once metastisis has begun, the life expectancy for SCLC is about 6-18 months (around 12 weeks if left untreated). It's been almost five months since they found the tumor, which was good sized to begin with, and they hadn't done the bone scan until now. It is possible it had spread a while ago. Do we figure the lost weeks out of her survival time?
I'm visiting her today (with her permission). I thought I'd bring her flowers - but they die all too quickly. I thought maybe a book, then, to give her something to do during her long chemotherapy sessions. Somehow I know that a feel-good, inspirational, chicken-soupy kind of book just isn't going to work. I think just a caring presence might be worth something, at the very least. I feel guilty. I feel like I should be doing more. I want to run and hide. I don't want regrets hanging on me after she's gone. I don't have the strength to deal with this.
She was with me during my hospital stays with Nicholas. She couldn't bring herself to visit when he was born. She came to his funeral. We didn't talk much about it after that. I know she cared, she just has this avoiding-uncomfortable-thoughts thing. As do I. I know she cares. She knows I care. And it doesn't matter anyway, because nothing is going to fix it.
Even though she doesn't want hugs and tears and pity, I will be available to help her when she gets weak and is hurting. Chemo alone is an ugly thing, but once this spreads further into her bones and organs, as it quickly eats her away from the inside, she will be needing more help than her family can give. She probably won't ask for hospice care, but I hope that she does. I will do my best to nurse her through this. I don't know that I can. But I have to.
Somehow.
And I think back to all the "god thoughts" and the dismissive statements that there's a reason for this, this is his will, it's part of The Plan, ad nauseum. Who, exactly, benefits from this? Am I going be a stronger person? Is her family going to sit back and say, Ok, I get it now, we didn't need her anymore? Just when I thought I was getting a grip on any possible 'good' coming from losing Nick, such as taking in foster babies, I'm hit with losing her, and I'm more pissed than ever. It is senseless and hateful and has no purpose whatsoever. This is why I don't believe in a all-powerful 'plan'. It is just random, and that's all there is.
Finis.
So, I called her. I don't know if I was avoiding her and her situation, or if it was mutual, but she wasn't cold, at least not completely. I sort of apologized, and she sort of acknowledged that she hadn't really been interested in company anyway. The results of her bone scan showed the cancer is in her bones; ribs and right femur. What they had originally proposed as a 'cure' (!) has quickly spiraled down to just getting her into remission. She starts chemo on monday.
Once metastisis has begun, the life expectancy for SCLC is about 6-18 months (around 12 weeks if left untreated). It's been almost five months since they found the tumor, which was good sized to begin with, and they hadn't done the bone scan until now. It is possible it had spread a while ago. Do we figure the lost weeks out of her survival time?
I'm visiting her today (with her permission). I thought I'd bring her flowers - but they die all too quickly. I thought maybe a book, then, to give her something to do during her long chemotherapy sessions. Somehow I know that a feel-good, inspirational, chicken-soupy kind of book just isn't going to work. I think just a caring presence might be worth something, at the very least. I feel guilty. I feel like I should be doing more. I want to run and hide. I don't want regrets hanging on me after she's gone. I don't have the strength to deal with this.
She was with me during my hospital stays with Nicholas. She couldn't bring herself to visit when he was born. She came to his funeral. We didn't talk much about it after that. I know she cared, she just has this avoiding-uncomfortable-thoughts thing. As do I. I know she cares. She knows I care. And it doesn't matter anyway, because nothing is going to fix it.
Even though she doesn't want hugs and tears and pity, I will be available to help her when she gets weak and is hurting. Chemo alone is an ugly thing, but once this spreads further into her bones and organs, as it quickly eats her away from the inside, she will be needing more help than her family can give. She probably won't ask for hospice care, but I hope that she does. I will do my best to nurse her through this. I don't know that I can. But I have to.
Somehow.
And I think back to all the "god thoughts" and the dismissive statements that there's a reason for this, this is his will, it's part of The Plan, ad nauseum. Who, exactly, benefits from this? Am I going be a stronger person? Is her family going to sit back and say, Ok, I get it now, we didn't need her anymore? Just when I thought I was getting a grip on any possible 'good' coming from losing Nick, such as taking in foster babies, I'm hit with losing her, and I'm more pissed than ever. It is senseless and hateful and has no purpose whatsoever. This is why I don't believe in a all-powerful 'plan'. It is just random, and that's all there is.
Finis.
posted by Julie at 8:27 AM
5 Comments:
Julie I am so sorry you are having to deal with the pain and hopelessness of this situation. That fact that you love her alone will go a very long way to making sure you both get and give everything you can over the next months.
As for the god thing, I hang onto Catherine's theory that the word 'deserve' should be forgotten and that everything, good and bad, are random and undeserved by everyone. It takes away that pain of being screwed over a little if you can believe that no one or nothing pointed their finger at you to suffer. It has helped me make sense of the world. Just saying anyway.
You will need someone to look after you too. I wish I lived closer - I would cook your meals while you cook hers. In leu of that, I send my love to you my friend x
I have a very hard time believing things happen for a purpose, either. The just happen. I guess we can only find the good in how we react/act when they happen. This will be the time for MaryAnn to find out who her friends are at this time, and I know that you will be a GOOD friend.
I am so sorry you have to go through so much pain.
I remember my father's last birthday. What do you give someone who knows he will die soon after? We planted an apple tree for him. And seeing his apples grow makes me smile today.
During his last months, my father retreated into music. It gave him comfort. Would that be something your friend might like as well?
I wish you both strength and peace. Lots of it.
I know you don't want to be...and I know you wish you didn't have to be...but you ARE stronger than you think. You don't have to be perfect. You're an amazing friend and you will do the best you can. And no matter what happens, your friend will love you for it.
(((hugs)))
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