I won’t swear—at least not here where you can read it. But just so you know, I’m swearing in my head, along with thinking, “What the hell’s going on?”
Okay, you may ask, “Why?”
I’ll tell you. And this fits in with my musings from the other side of young because I’m at a stage in life I witnessed my mother experience with those she loved. I was in my twenties and didn’t understand the depth of what was going on in her life and with her friends. Now, I do. If I’d known then what I’m realizing now, I would have asked her more questions, like how’d she do it.
In just this week, the man I’ve known since I was 1-1/2 years old and he was 4 months old, went to the hospital to have surgery that would have enhanced his quality of life. But it couldn’t be done because his blood pressure was low and then they discovered he had COVID.
You might not think that was much unless you knew his story. I’ll offer cliff notes. He was paralyzed from the chest down in a car accident just weeks after his 19th birthday. He’s now 72 and has survived decades longer than they first thought he ever would.
He’s made a difference in the lives of many. He’s one reason Westwood has had curb cuts since the 1970s. Through his work at the City of Palm Springs, holding a position as ADA Coordinator, which he created, he was there to ensure that buildings in the desert were accessible to everyone. And he’s done much more to enhance lives over the years.
During the years in between his accident and this fall, he’d come close to death more than once. More than once. And each time, he got well, got out of the hospital and back into his chair, and continued his independent life.
Then he fell near the end of last year, and when they took him to the hospital, they discovered a pressure sore. If you don’t know any paralyzed people, you probably aren’t aware that pressure sores are one of their biggest fears because it can kill them. And, so, my friend, who I’ve thought of as my little brother since we were both small children, was sent to a rehab facility.
I won’t go into details about the challenges he faced there, but, needless to say, they were mighty. It’s something when a man who’s been through so much says, “This is the biggest challenge of my life.” Time and again, I witnessed how he would will himself away from anxiety and the pull towards depression, and find the courage and strength to fight for another day and a better life than he now has.
But some things he’s faced have been painfully gruesome and scary, and these led him to a decision to have the surgery that could make a big difference.
Now, back in rehab and healing from COVID, he again waits, while being forced to eat disgusting food and experience shameful neglect that could kill him. He does this with a remarkable attitude, one he learned from facing and overcoming challenges that would fell most of us the first time.
So, what does this have to do with me? There were days of silence where I would wait, hearing and knowing nothing, and wondering if he might have died and someone forgot to tell me. Days I had to pull myself up and away from any despair because I understood that would not help him or me. Days I had to find an oasis where I believed he was okay, will get better, go home, and reclaim his life.
A friend asked me if I try to boost his spirits by telling him all he has to live for. I think she was surprised when I said I didn’t do that because I don’t know that he has a lot to live for. I hope he has, but he may never be independent again, although I have to believe he will. Given what may be ahead, I don’t know what’s the best thing for him.
I’ve lived long enough to know that I’m not the genius who knows what’s best for anyone.
And, now, back to the story I started before I got sidetracked with one of the biggest I’ve witnessed this year.
A few days ago, another childhood close friend was diagnosed with extremely aggressive breast cancer. She can’t even talk. Her brief messages pop in occasionally, letting me know about her cancer and their plan to administer chemo for a year. I don’t ask her questions because I’ve learned that questions sometimes lead us into areas we aren’t ready to think about. And so I wait. I continue to send loving messages, including finding fun animated images of friendship, hugs, and love. I feel tears close by, but have retreated to a numb awareness rather than cry.
And this morning, as I do each year, I called my first best friend, who I met when I was four years old, to wish her a happy birthday. She thanked me with a gratitude she’d never expressed before and then told me she has bladder cancer and is going in for surgery the second week of May. Her prognosis is good.
Three people I’ve known since childhood. Three people I care about deeply who’ve played integral roles in my life and are woven into the tapestry of my life story.
This has been one crazy week, not to mention, year.
And then, of course, there’s the fourth component to my story: my husband. The man I’ve loved for 20 years, my friend, companion, playmate, confidant, and partner, who is also the love of my life (when you don’t count my dogs). Nothing horrible right now, unlike the past four years when he came close to dying too many times. Just residuals that have left him with daily challenges, upcoming surgery, and an exhaustion draining away his energy. We hope a recent blood test will allow his hematologist to give him an iron infusion, and the surgery in June should take care of another, more private problem. But, any way you look at it, we have a few more hurdles to climb, with the hope we’ll find fresh air when we get to the top.
So here I am, witness to the fear and suffering of those I love. And rather than feeling frightened myself, I alternate being sad and numb. Mostly numb because sad and fear live in a forest too thick and foreboding—one where I might get stuck and not find my way out when my husband and friends most need me on this side acting as their loving, supportive, rooting section.
I’m being facetious, but can’t help wondering if knowing me might not be good for their health.
And, so, here’s my message: Do your best to embrace each stage of your life and to learn from everything that happens. You can’t fully prepare for everything that might happen in the future, but if you’ve been paying attention, you will have acquired philosophies and skills to cradle you as life continues to offer challenges.
Your musings about life always inspire me, even when they discuss the rougher roads of life. Honesty is refreshing. I am so sorry you are experiencing so much sadness surrounding your friends and loved ones and their travails. But your last remark about appreciating every moment in life really touched my core. It's easy to forget day to day that at any moment things could drastically change.
You have described what it is like to be a witness to loss and to the fear of future loss as we age. I have often felt alone in this journey. Thank you for your honesty and insights. I wish good outcomes for those you love and the strength to be there for them along the way. Your love is a gift.