Topic of Cancer.
Nov. 24th, 2009 08:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogI know, the calendar and the culture are pointing decidedly to "thankfulness" right about now, but two friends from two completely different circles of life passed along news today that's making that a bit harder than usual. One, I knew over 30 years ago, and not so well, but through friends-of-friends and the added binding of Facebook, we've renewed contact and had more than our share of laughs over the past few weeks. Tonight, not so much: Steve's son goes in for a biopsy tomorrow.
Another friend's mom is even further along in her diagnosis, and well on her way to some very aggressive treatment. Kim's mom had to travel this road to recovery once before, and thought she had it beat, but a seemingly unrelated condition earlier this week revealed some Very Bad Things in a number of very bad places today. There's the certainty of radiation and chemo in her future, but I've just as certainly been witness today to dozens of prayers and hugs and offers of help and heart from a circle of her friends including three people here she's never even met (and more than a few of you).
It's harder for me than for some to put that all aside and give thanks anyway. And yet I do, as we all must when faced with the inevitable, the inescapable, even the incurable (which hopefully none of this actually is). It makes pettiness over money, or perceived slights, or magnified misunderstandings, all seem very, very small.
Love what you have. Love WHO you have, while you have them. Give thanks, with a joyful heart. As I do for each and every one of you.
Another friend's mom is even further along in her diagnosis, and well on her way to some very aggressive treatment. Kim's mom had to travel this road to recovery once before, and thought she had it beat, but a seemingly unrelated condition earlier this week revealed some Very Bad Things in a number of very bad places today. There's the certainty of radiation and chemo in her future, but I've just as certainly been witness today to dozens of prayers and hugs and offers of help and heart from a circle of her friends including three people here she's never even met (and more than a few of you).
It's harder for me than for some to put that all aside and give thanks anyway. And yet I do, as we all must when faced with the inevitable, the inescapable, even the incurable (which hopefully none of this actually is). It makes pettiness over money, or perceived slights, or magnified misunderstandings, all seem very, very small.
Love what you have. Love WHO you have, while you have them. Give thanks, with a joyful heart. As I do for each and every one of you.