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| View from my workplace this week in Cape Town, South Africa. |
I began writing this post on a British Airways flight homeward bound from South Africa. I was there for three days delivering training to my co-workers.
With 17 hours of flight ahead of me, I was regretting leaving the country so soon. I’ve always had a safari on my wish list and it felt like a missed opportunity leaving Africa without seeing the more of the country and the Big 5. I only had a half day to see Cape Town and the rest of the time I was in a hotel conference room. That’s the unglamorous reality of business travel.
Why the rush? I wanted to be home with my husband Bernie and my dog Max. In late March, we learned that Max has lymphoma, a cancer that will probably end his life by July if the disease follows its usual path.
Max was really sick in March; I really thought he was dying and I did not want Bernie to grieve alone. So I booked the shortest possible trip, and lucky for me, Max was wagging his tail and barking at me when I returned home on Thursday. (Bernie was happy to see me too.)
With 17 hours of flight ahead of me, I was regretting leaving the country so soon. I’ve always had a safari on my wish list and it felt like a missed opportunity leaving Africa without seeing the more of the country and the Big 5. I only had a half day to see Cape Town and the rest of the time I was in a hotel conference room. That’s the unglamorous reality of business travel.
Why the rush? I wanted to be home with my husband Bernie and my dog Max. In late March, we learned that Max has lymphoma, a cancer that will probably end his life by July if the disease follows its usual path.
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| Bernie and Max |
Just days after we learned about Max's fate, my sister called to tell me that her son Tom, a 28-year-old who was thriving in his career as a chef, had been diagnosed with a rare and aggressive cancer. The news stopped me cold, and the fog of sadness that was already following me around became even darker.
I thought about how sad I was about my dog; projecting that sadness to a child? Unimaginable.
Tom is approaching his illness with optimism and pluck. He has infected us with his belief that he can survive this disease. He has a fantastic family and many friends ready to help and cheering him on to beat the cancer and live large.
The days and months ahead will be challenging as we travel together on Tom's cancer journey. It's a trip that no one signs up for, but one that can reveal courage, beauty and love.
The days and months ahead will be challenging as we travel together on Tom's cancer journey. It's a trip that no one signs up for, but one that can reveal courage, beauty and love.
Magic spells, good wishes and prayers for Tom gratefully accepted.
I'm so sorry to hear about your nephew and Max. (Full disclosure, am sad you didn't get to see more of SA too.) You know if I had a magic spell, it would be yours, friend, but healing energy will have to do.
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DeleteCathy, You have good karma... so thanks for the spells and healing energy. You know this trip far better than I do, so I appreciate your thoughts.
DeleteChris...
ReplyDeleteAs you know, I have traveled your road with Max. And my sister, Diane, was diagnosed with an aggressive ovarian cancer in August of 2005. Although Pepper is no longer with me, Diane is, having no signs of cancer today as the result of good medicine, uncanny coincidences, and much hard work on her part. No great struggle comes without a great gift. And, in a weird "there are no coincidences" way, before I read your post this morning, I was contemplating the gifts both Diane's and Pepper's illnesses gave me. In each case, I revived or developed an intimacy I did not have before. My sister and I say "I love you" after every phone conversation now. We talk at least once a week. With Pepper, I got to know every muscle, every shock of fur, every glint in her eye before I let her go. My prayers and magic spells go out to all of you for the best possible outcome and the best possible gifts. As the magnet on my car says: "Life is short. Play with your dog." And your kids. And your hubby. And your loved ones.
Mary, I like that thought: strengthening the intimacy with our loved ones. It really does capture the best part of what we take out of these "trials".
DeleteMary, beautifully said.
DeleteChris, reading the little bit you wrote about your nephew's spirit reminded me of Lance Armstrong. It sounds like Tom has his will kind of outlook and will.
Remember, there are always solutions we cannot foresee
Carol" thanks for reminding me about Lance. After all of his Tour de France wins, I almost forgot about the cancer he battled. An amazing survival story. Gives one hope that medicine can do wonders.
DeleteThank you for sharing these thoughts. We all go through times like this and the support of others has the power to give you strength and provide comfort. I wish you the best.
ReplyDeletePeggy: It reminds me of Carol's post about accepting help. It is a gift for the giver and the recipient. Thanks for the reply.
DeleteI just sent you an email about lunch on Thursday and stopped to read your blog. Sorry to hear about your nephew but glad to hear that Bernie and Max are doing well. I can never find the "right" words to say or write when I hear news about someone so young confronting an illness. Like Cathy, I wish I could offer a magic spell but will, instead, offer my thoughts and well wishes that strength, courage, and perserverence are on his side as well as yours and your families.
ReplyDeleteEdie: I think we all struggle to know what to say to give comfort to someone who is facing a life battle like cancer. You just want it to not be there. Thanks for writing.
ReplyDeleteLife is short, play with your dog. Thanks for those words, Mary. Chris, I'm so sorry to hear about both Tom and Max. I will keep you all in my prayers. Thanks for the reminder to live every day, not take our time for granted.
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