I just wrote a reply to a friend who asked me how I'm doing after seeing Mary on Saturday. Mary & I are close and I think everyone is aware that it's a bit of a double whammy for me when someone I'm close to with metastatic cancer is not doing well.
It is true, it hurts. No, that's an understatement. It fucking sucks. I think the world of Mary and hate seeing that it's impossible now for her to be her usual "I can do anything; I'm not really sick" kind of self.
Also, seeing myself in her shoes (or wheelchair, or hospital bed, etc.) isn't that much of a stretch for me.
I'm heading off to a conference for women with advanced breast cancer this weekend. What kind of a lunatic would continue to make connections (and potential friendships) with an entire community of women who's futures are filled with question marks? Shouldn't I protect myself and ask for health records and a family history before making new friends?
But, the truth is, no one understands where I'm at in my head like these women. I have a connection with them that I can't find anywhere else. They "get" me.
(Was that from a Tom Cruise movie? Oh no, I think it was "you complete me". As cute as he is, it would take more than Tommy boy to "complete" this old jig-saw puzzle with half the pieces missing).
Some of the women got emotional when we waved goodbye as Mary left the hospital. I think I just can't go there because if I do, I'm afraid it won't stop. The last time I really cried was at Christmas and I can't remember the time before that. It just feels too big for me to deal with, so I shut down. I think it's my mind's way of protecting me from coming completely apart at the seams. I have to stay in control because if I dare to peak over the edge, I'm afraid I'll fall into the abyss and won't be able to get up again.
Whewww! That was just too deep for a sunny Monday morning. I'm heading out for a bike ride with Anka and then off to do some planning for the accessory party this afternoon.
But Mary, sister of my heart, is never far from my thoughts...