So, my BFF is dying.
It’s been that way for a while so it shouldn’t be a surprise. She’s my muse. She is the reason I finally started writing again, regularly, after like ten years. She’s my inspiration for Kick-Ass Cancer Chick. She’s my Kick-Ass Cancer Chick.
She’s the honorary reason for the 5K that my friend Melissa and I are planning for early this summer – with all proceeds to benefit Metavivor.
She’s the shit.
She’s that girlfriend that you thought you would never find because you are too old and once you reach a certain age, chicks just don’t get along like that anymore. But we surpassed that, her and I. I’m not sure how. But we did. I don’t get tired of her. She doesn’t piss me off. I’m not jealous of her and she’s not jealous of me. We have none of that typical girl shit. I know we aren’t supposed to admit that all THAT stuff happens in female relationships, but it does.
So, I’ve been planning a trip to see her next week. I’m excited. But, she’s on a bit of a decline with her cancer, but I figure I’m seeing her in a week so what could go wrong.
Well, the way it looks today, she’s in renal failure. Her cancer has returned/resurfaced/metastasized four times now. This last time in her spine with bits a pieces in her brain, liver, and lungs. She also had some leptomeningeal activity in her brain.
So, she got on a trial. And apparently the trial has done shit. Less than shit, really. Last week her liver count was too high for chemo. So they had to postpone treatment until this week. And, by this week the cancer has encompassed her liver. Which, apparently, is equating to renal failure, and will kill her in two weeks or so.
It is so amazingly fucked up.
She brings peace and light and intelligence and love to this world. Why don’t the assholes get metastatic breast cancer? Why does it have to be the people that we need to have around.
I find it to be seriously fucked up that my BFF has to go, yet the asshole that cut me off on the freeway today lives. BFF will die, but countless other shitheads that I watch on 20/20 and Dateline will live. BFF, who brings nothing but joy to all who love her, won’t last the year, but a certain child molester who destroyed my grade school bestie’s innocence, is alive and well, and on his third wife. Who will probably bear him children, just like the previous two wives did. All girls. Why the fuck does he live?
Point being, why her? I’m sure everyone experiencing some aspect of grief suffers the same questions. But it really is bullshit. My first brush with death as a grown up was about a month ago. My grandmother died. I was able to see her before she passed. I would say that we were close when I was younger. But then family crap got in the way and we drifted a bit as I grew older. I am happy I was able to see her when she was cognizant and before she passed. But it was upsetting and sad. I find it hard to believe that I’d not really had anyone close to me die, prior to that. But, at 45, that’s the truth.
So, that brings us to BFF. She’s going to die and I don’t know what the fuck to do. I don’t know how to handle it. I keep hoping that it’s a mistake. That when her husband called to tell me, he was wrong. That somehow dialysis or chemo or radiation or some miracle cure will spring up to save her. I mean, she’s already powered through 4 recurrences. What’s one more? Plus, I need her. I’m not ready for her to go. I have so many things for us to do together.
She’s never been in a hot tub in the snow. And she LOVES hot tubs. There is no better hot tub experience than one in the snow. I promised her that experience at the beginning of the year. Now here we are at the end of March and she’s dying and I have yet to deliver. What an asshole am I?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking for reassurance or sympathy, it’s just the way it is. Not delivering makes me an asshole. And, I don’t actually like reassurance or sympathy when I’m upset or sad, so this is not a ploy for such. I also don’t like to be touched if I’m crying. And I don’t like to be reassured when I’m despondent. At the same time, I can completely acknowledge that I’m an asshole for not delivering.
She’s my muse.
I know I mentioned that before. I’ve had a hard time writing for almost ten years. Her kick-ass nature inspired me to write again. For that I will be forever grateful. My main character, based on her, is probably still a bit of the both of us, but all because of her. Nothing wrong with that. I’ll credit her with the good characteristics of the character and I’ll take responsibility for the bad.
Did I mention that she read my book?
The one inspired by and based on her.
She’s one of the only people to actually finish it because it’s a really long fucking book apparently. But she did it. She did it while actively fighting terminal cancer. And she did it for me. And I don’t know how to take that. I mean, in this grand scheme of the universe and timing and all of that bullshit. You know. I’m forever grateful that she read it. I mean, I know it’s a good book. And it was an effort. And it’s all because of her. And the book is written for her. So, it’s good that she knows it. But, at this point, I’m not sure I care if anyone else reads it.
At the same time, I need EVERYONE to read it. So they know just how amazing she is. I mean, anyone who knows her already knows. But those who have never met her in person, they need to know how great she is. How inspiring her story is. They need to know all about her strength and her positivity and her energy. They need to know how she was able to embrace her cancer and accept it as part of her. Which sounds counter productive to the whole ‘Fuck Cancer’ campaign. But to hear her explain it, it makes perfect sense.
By the time it metastasized, the cancer had become a part of her. And she loves herself. So, in order to fully love herself, she had to love the cancer to some respect as well. That took me a long time to wrap my head around. But if you think about it, pragmatically, it makes sense. Once cancer has infiltrated, it’s one with you. If you hate the cancer, you hate a part of you. And in order to be whole, don’t you need to love all of you?
I don’t know.
Fuck. I’m sad. I’m crying. I’m a little drunk.
And this probably isn’t the best time to write in a public forum. Except no one reads my blog anyway. I know this because I see the stats. In a perfect world, my book would become a best seller and a gazillion people would subscribe to my blog and this would be read a bazillion times. But, we are in reality land. So, really I can say whatever the fuck I want to at this point. And it’s just catharsis for me. I need catharsis right now. Because I don’t know how to deal with this otherwise.
I miss BFF already and she’s not even gone.