Strange title perhaps, but pretty much the way things are around here these days. Dallas had a historical snow fall last Thursday/Friday, which left many delighted as they went outside to have traditional snowball fights (something some had never done), made snow men and snow forts, and generally awed in the beauty of it while the cold temperatures allowed the trees to remain portrait like for hours. I would have included some stunning photos, but my new camera was in the shop. Instead, as life continues around us, the above photo held strong in the minds of others dear to me.My friend of 20+ years has been supporting her mother through years of battling cancer. A few times we thought we were getting close to losing her, and then she'd rally back with clean work ups. My friend was exhausted, as even on a good day, mothers can be draining. In October, her father came home with a not so good diagnosis and was ball parked a few more years. He hadn't been feeling well for some time, but also suffered from arthritis, so no one expected such a rapid decline. The made family trips as best as they could given his pained condition, and she worked diligently to get all the affairs in order. Slideshow for her dad, long talks, letters, quiet moments and hours together. He lived just down the road, so it was easy to stay close.
Two weeks ago she called and said they were meeting with hospice counselor and such as he was fading fast. The following week she found a lump in her breast. Given the double sided family history (going back generations), her doctor has her pegged as "urgent" for needing an ultrasound/mammogram. Of course, with the awesome Canadian medical system (ie: wait lists) "Urgent" means three weeks from now. Then the call came late Saturday that dad has passed away in her arms. He is gone and she is devastated, despite having had all the prep.
I am close to her family, as the "adopted" daughter/sister over our university years. A whisper of a call came on Sunday - "When can you come?" and I booked my flights. It is time for me to go be her strength for a while, but I am scared. Not afraid of the stuff in the moments to come, but in the moments to follow as we wait for her own diagnosis. Thus my photo for today. The Breast Cancer cell. Put it on you dart board; rip it to pieces; burn it. Make it go away.
