Tuesday I had every intention of posting a lovely “woe is me” post about how hard of a time I am having with the fact that Bo was turning one. It was all boo-hoo-hoo about the fact that I knew he would be our last child and I would never again get to hold a newborn of my own. I don’t want to be done having children, but for now, that’s the plan.
Then, as I was getting ready to put my thoughts online I received an email that I truly believe has forever changed me. A friend/coworker had received terrible medical news involving the word “terminal” and the prognosis listed “months” on the long end of things. One week ago I was sitting in our Loft eating lunch with this guy and laughing about life and kids and whatnot. Now he is making final arrangements.
He’s not the first person that I have ever known to get cancer. I’ve known people who have died from cancer. I have just never seen a prognosis so grim, so fast, and so out of the blue. HE WAS FINE A WEEK AGO!!!!
So quickly everything in my life seemed fine. I may not hold another newborn of my own, but the chances of holding a grandchild some day aren’t out the question. For him it is. How dare I bitch and complain about anything when I have good days left – days where I get to be truly happy. Does he? Knowing what he knows, probably not.
I am empathetic to a fault. I can’t help but weep for his wife and pre-teen children. Just because they have warning, I don’t know how you truly prepare for something like this.
So often I read blogs about moms that have lost their babies or have sick babies and I just sob for those parents and wonder what it must be like to go through that. What about when a 12 year old has to say goodbye to their daddy or watch him pass away?
Now don’t get me wrong – he has every intention of fighting this but it’s an aggressive little bastard that’s taking over his body and he knows his chance of winning isn’t good. Whether he wins or loses, his battle has certainly put things back in perspective for a lot of people.