conversation with a friend

this is part of a conversation I've been having with a friend. she's struggling after several years with the tragic death of her mother and I'm, well...just stuggling.


Wow, J. I was floored by the story of your mother's death. I keep imagining you driving as fast as you could, praying and hoping. I imagine getting the news and what that devastation must have felt like. that your mother died is bad enough but the traumatic circumstances of her death are so awful it isn't surprising at all to still feel that raw grief. it's only been a few years. I know a little what you must feel. My sister had an MRI because like me she's BRCA1 positive. they called her to give her the results and just left a message for Katie to call back. she called when their phones were off and left a message. Phone tag, you're it! They never called back to give her the message that she needed to have more views because they found something. Katie figured they'd call if there was a problem and forgot about it. She found the lump 6 months later. at this time it was node positive and ER negative. she had bilateral mastectomies, chemo and radiation when she could have just had surgery and been done with it. she had a bunch of complications resulting in an infected seroma and lost one of the implants which can't be replaced because of the radiation.

when she got diagnosed I was so angry at her for not following up and then angry at Dana Farber (where the blame really lies) and then just mad period. luckily she's done well since so for me the grief is gone but i remember feeling so impotent when it first happened. i kept saying "if only she had called...if only they had called..." I can't imagine what it must have been like for you. You have high expectations of yourself to "handle this well."

Some wounds only heal with scars. we are changed forever. I feel that way about John. I'll never accept that he had to die. it was a useless death. at his memorial we all sat around trying to figure out who, if anyone, knew that he had AIDS. We don't think anyone did. I suspect John didn't even know until he got sick. He died in October but had been hospitalized with pneumonia in August. I'm guessing he came down with PCP and that was the first anyone knew about it. he probably was discharged and went home stopping on the way to buy a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights. Those last few days must have been so dark for him. he died alone. His father was coming to pick him up for a trip to Vegas and found his body. I think he'd been dead only a day at most. His friend A. wrote a eulogy that I read at his memorial and I emailed her to see what she knew but she never answered any of those questions. she's a big TV star and gay and not out of the closet so I think she was protecting her privacy. I guess I'll never know what really happened to him.

Phew! it's been a while since I've thought about all that.

Are you angry? I'm angry these days. I'm pissed off at my whiny patients who have no idea what pain and suffering are. Between recurrences of the cancer I could pretend or forget that I had it because I was healthy. Now there are reminders every day with the ostomy and the incontinence (probably the worst reminder) and the radiation enteritis. I have to work at being my old self. it's hard. I don't know that I feel picked on, or that this is unfair (it is); I'm just pissed off. A day doesn't pass that i don't think about dying of this because eventually I will. No one knows how much time they have; I get that but I feel like I've been shown most of the cards and they aren't good. My autistic 7 year old is struggling with understanding what death is because we just lost a little frog and buried it in the back yard. he doesn't have the language to have a conversation about it. How is someone going to explain to him that his mother died? it's so awful i can barely type that last sentence without bawling (and I am).

I haven't been to synagogue in a while. it almost makes me sadder to go. it just doesn't seem to help right now. I wish I believed in something after death but even that doesn't help me feel better about those left behind.

Well, this is depressing for a Tuesday. I'd better sign off so I can go pick out flooring for the kitchen. Life goes on.

b