I’m undertaking a 1000-day reinvention project, blogging here daily to track my progress. In Saturday Reflections, I take time out to reflect.
Yesterday I wrote about the despair I felt after my divorce. I was thinking about how despair and hope braid together. I thought about how I am here, and that alone is cause for hope.
My ex-husband Mark had two good friends from grad school, Ben and Stephen. In our twenties, Mark and I had many good times with Ben and Stephen and their partners. Ben was married to Linda, a marriage and family therapist. Stephen was in a long-term live-in relationship with Teresa, a technologist like me.
Ben and Linda had two kids, the older of which was almost exactly the same age as our oldest. Teresa left Stephen and went her own way, first entering local politics for a time, and then doing work in Afghanistan with women there to raise them up economically. We knew Stephen never stopped loving her.
Linda was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in her forties, and passed away less than a year after the diagnosis. Teresa died in Afghanistan of a heart attack when she was in her early fifties.
When Mark and I went through the divorce, Stephen said to Mark, “hey, at least she’s still alive!”
Why am I writing about this? Because I have an appointment with an oncologist next week due to inconclusive results on a biopsy. Even if this turns out to be cancer, it is likely not very far progressed and very treatable, in fact, very likely curable. The question is how much surgery, radiation, and chemo I might have to undergo, should results be worse than I’m expecting.
The word “cancer” makes anyone stop and think, “am I going to die?” Well, Anne, yes you are going to die. The question is when. Soon, or in the far off future? Let’s hope the latter.
I think of how much life Linda and Teresa missed out on, and I grieve for them.
Today, I feel fortunate that I am here.