Friday, September 18, 2009

The C Word

My bestie has breast cancer.

There.  I said it.  Or at least, I typed it.  And I want y'all to know that although I have a big lump in my throat from typing it, I'm not crying.  Not yet.  There's too much we don't know yet.  Maybe later I'll cry, if further developments warrant it.  My bestie's not crying yet either.  "Maybe I should be more upset about this than I am," she said tonight.  How the hell do I know?  This is territory that neither of us has wandered into before.

What I do know is this:  for maybe only the fourth or fifth time since Sean died in April, I prayed.  See, me and God haven't been on real good terms since He looked away for a moment that Easter weekend, say to check on the famine in Africa or something, and Sean's blood sugar bottomed out while he was driving home to get his insulin.  My bestie knows this about me.  "You will pray again," she said in her calm way, "when you feel like you need to."  Well, guess what?  Now I feel like I need to. 

So I prayed a cobbled-together little prayer in the parking lot at work tonight.  It went something like this:  Hey God, I know you're busy and all and you have better things to do than sit up there drummin' your fingers on your celestial table and waiting for me to get my head out of my butt—oh, sorry—but if you were maybe tryin' to get my attention with this thing you let happen to my bestie...well, it worked.  I'm payin' attention now.  And I'd really appreciate it if you could see your way clear to not take her from me, not just yet.  If you could maybe strike her with some weak little cancer that curls up and dies right away like that big spider in my bathroom, if you could do that, that'd be really cool.  Because I need her, okay?  And also, you know how she worries.  Well, if you could make it so she doesn't worry so much, that'd be awesome, too.  I don't want her to worry and be afraid, okay?  Because it might really be an itty-bitty-spider kind of cancer, right, like the doctor said.  I mean, you got some leeway here, you know?  And me and my bestie, we're kinda big on signs, so if you could send us some kind of sign that, you know, sorta points us in the right direction here, we could use it.  That's all.  For now, I mean.  Thanks for listening.

And then I got all settled in at work and logged onto Facebook, and right there at the top of the page was my friend Angela's status:  "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." John 14:27  Oh.  A sign already.  I just had to laugh.  Here I am, praying my little heart out for a sign, and God goes and hits me right upside the head with one.  I figure He's not much on subtlety with a lost sheep like me. 

And that's all for now.  I just wanted to throw this out there so y'all would know, in case someone who prays with more faith than I have might want to say a little word or two about my bestie to God or your Higher Power or whoever or whatever you believe makes the world and everything in it tick along.  So thanks for that.

11 comments:

  1. I'm so sorry to hear about your bad news. I'll keep you in my prayers for peace, strength, and healing.

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  2. I'm not much of the prayin' sort either. (I have my own set of issues with religion.)But I'll definitely ask for some help on your behalf. I can't imagine what that kind of news would be like, nor do I want to. Sending every positive vibe that can be spared in your direction.

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  3. I'm sorry to hear about your friend. I will definitely be praying for both of you, like Nathan said, for peace, strength, and healing.

    I talk to God all day long, usually it begins in the morning before my feet hit the floor. I start my day by asking God to use me. It's fun to see where he places me that day. Sometimes I find myself helping a man whose having a seizure in a resturant to helping a friend paint her house.

    I lost my step-father a year ago this week to cancer. The road ahead for your friend is not going to be easy. My prayer is that God will put together an awesome group of caregivers to support her while she fights this battle.
    Please keep us posted.

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  4. It's been a tough year, huh? I've been through my own issues with my faith. I've discovered though that He is always still there, waiting. I'll add you and your friend to my list of good people who need good things.

    (hug)

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  5. I am so sorry she has to go through this. She is in my prayers.

    On a hopefully positive note, you seem to be saying the doctor said the tumor was small. I just looked on the web, and the five year survival rates for the first two stages of breast cancer is...100%.

    Betty Ford is alive and well 35 years after her diagnosis.

    I know cancer is scary as hell, but so many people come through this and live long lives. I am holding the thought that this is true for your friend.

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  6. The C word isn't nearly as scary as it was in the past. They have made great strides lately.

    Stay positive and I'll keep her in my prayers.

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  7. My mom is alive 15 years after her diagnosis. I obviously have made that same parking lot prayer. Will keep your friend in my prayers, so you can focus on being the solid friend she needs now.

    I love that God used Facebook :-)

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  8. I'm so sorry to hear about your news. There is a movie you need to see that talks about cancer called "The Beautiful Truth", it is amazing and may change the way you live and eat. Good Luck. Love and Peace to you!

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  9. Thanks, everyone. I knew I could count on you guys.

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  10. We just lost Mammie from cancer, but she was able to work right up to a week before her death, and she had a year when they said three months. The good thing is they caught it, and if she gets a good oncologist that can go far in the fight.

    Best wishes from my end of the line!

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  11. You and your son and his wife and Van are in my prayers every night. Now I will add your best friend. Big hugs.

    (My Mom had breast cancer and she didn't go right away when she found the lump. She had a radical mastectomy - the kind they don't do any more. She had no chemo or cobalt treatments, and she was cancer free for 25 years.)

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