Lyn
One of my closest friends has been diagnosed with cancer. She is young, just 58, and was in excellent health until this. This is a familiar story, right? We all have friends or acquaintances who have dealt with, or are currently dealing with, health challenges of this nature. Still, it is shocking when we learn of this sort of thing. How can this be happening?
We are in the early days of this diagnosis, with lots of tests being done and no treatment plan offered yet. These are scary times, the not knowing. It’s challenging to not yet know the extent of what is going on in Lyn’s body or what will happen next. The waiting game is hard.
I have set up a Caring Bridge site and a Meal Train calendar. I talk to and see Lyn and Jon regularly. I do small things to help Jon out, as so much is falling on him. What more can I do? I ask myself this multiple times a day. Good friends are doers. We want to do something. Really, what we want is to make it all go away. In lieu of that, we keep busy offering support. What more can we do than offer support?
We stay resilient for our sick friends. It’s the least we can do. I’ll be cross-country skiing again this afternoon (after a lovely dump of snow a couple of nights ago). Staying strong in mind and body is important for helpers. How can we help others if we are not attending to ourselves, right?
Sailing through the woods yesterday on my skis I was reminded of when I first owned this set of equipment, twenty-five years ago. I broke trail one afternoon after a huge dump of snow and wrote a long poem about that trip into the woods. I wrote about trudging where the next day I would sail. This was just a few weeks before Colleen’s first hospitalization. I was just beginning to realize that she was restricting her food intake. She was ten years old. How could this be happening?
Today I trudge where tomorrow I will sail. It was a metaphor before I was consciously aware of it. I can only hope that Lyn and Jon will be able to sail through what lies ahead. I can only hope for the best. What are friends for, after all?
Ann, I was deeply moved by this entry, and by your observation, "Today I trudge where tomorrow I will sail." The weight of grief can indeed slow our steps, but the passage through grief can sometimes clear other obstacles from our path, as well. The nurturance I've cultivated to open to my hardest truths has illuminated me with a sense of profound safety, and I wish the same for you and your dear friends.
Thank you for your lovely words