Look Around and Grow Up.

I had chemo yesterday. My mother actually got to come in with me. She got to see my port being accessed. She got to feel the atmosphere in the room. She got to see the other people that are there fighting for their lives. She got to see the amazing talent of the nurses and everyone who works there.

It’s such a humbling experience, going into Texas Oncology. Yet, for me, it’s my second home. I have a deep sense of belonging there. My name is spoken when I walk in. I fit in. I love those people. If I ever see anyone I know, I go straight to them and ask them why they are there. I know, it’s such a personal question, but I need to know. I’ve seen three people that I know there. I have a genuine concern for them.

My friend is dying. And, it hurts my heart. Patsy and I struck up a friendship over our mutual cancer diagnoses. We both have breast cancer, but then, come to find out, her cancer is much worse. She’s now on hospice care.

This morning, I grieve for her. We have emailed back and forth for almost a year. We knew each other from going to church together, but not intimately. Now, we know each other pretty well.

Patsy is one of the bravest people I know. I know she’s been scared and upset. But, that doesn’t mean she’s not brave. From almost the first time she was diagnosed, she’s been given a time frame. I can’t imagine being given a timeline to my death. So far, I’m not to that point. But Patsy has taught me so much about life, and death.

She taught me how to look at death, head on. Sure, I can be scared, but I can face it and know what’s coming. We all die. Like it or not. And, we have no control over when we go, honestly. Some people get to live ripe lives, living to the age of 99 or higher without a single health issue. Some people get gypped and only get to live for a short while.

Patsy said “Why do we hang on to our earthly lives when we have so much more waiting for us?” I completely understand that. We all do, honestly. This is all we know, and all we have ever known. Every experience we have had has been right here on this earth.

I’m not sure what you believe, if anything. I don’t know if you believe in God or not. But, I’m pretty sure you believe in the brevity of life. We have all either understood how fast life goes, or seen someone robbed of a long life here. And, I’m pretty sure, we all have the understanding that if this is all there is, then what is the point?

I’m thankful that Patsy and I have a better place to go after this. I’m thankful that cancer isn’t my eternity. I’m thankful that aging and decay won’t follow me forever. I’m thankful for God and Jesus, so that I can live with hope, even with cancer.

Here’s the thing that really gets me – I see all those people at Texas Oncology. I see my friend, with weeks to live. I’ve been fighting cancer for almost a year now. And, I think – Why are we arguing? Why can’t we just get along? Why do we have such petty little things? Misunderstandings. Arguments. Anger. Jealosy. Why can’t we just see the bigger picture and love each other, unconditionally? Don’t we all need a bit more love in our lives? Your personal relationships. Whether you wear a friggin mask or not. Who you voted for. The color of your skin. Whatever it is. We are all dying. We are all affected by age, body malfunctions, gravity.

Stop it. Please.

Cancer has given me a wonderful gift. And, so did Patsy. There are things worth looking at in life. There are things worth spending your time on, and there are things that aren’t. I hope, today, that you can enjoy this spring like it is your last. That you can mend things that need mending. That you can live in peace and be left alone by people who just don’t get it. And, that you can calm down and see that we are all here, doing our best.

Thank you, Patsy, for your friendship. Thank you for your honesty. Your bravery. For showing me how to live as if today is my last. I love you.