Have you ever looked at the life of someone you know with cancer? Sometimes in the past, I would see women undergoing chemo, and they seemed so empowered. They seemed to have some inner strength that radiated from within. I've read books about people with cancer, and they sit and have long, meaningful talks all the day. They say all the right things, and make insights about life and death. They were suddenly smarter and more patient, and more loving than ever before. I thought it was because they had a cause to fight for. And then the Lance Armstrong thing came along. I still wear my Yellow bracelet to fight the cause. Now there's an Olympic swimmer that has cancer, and he's putting off surgery until after the games. How brave.
But Cancer isn't all Epiphanies and Activism.
I've likened Cancer unto Bass Fishing. Not from personal experience of course, since I haven't been fishing since I was like 10. I think I was with the Hales' at Scofield. I distinctly remember "milking" one of the fish we caught. I was forever traumatized. If that wasn't you, Hales', I apologize for my bad memory. I digress. Bass fishing. You know how it is. You have a boat, and a beer or two, and of course a boat motor that is bigger than your actual boat. You have to really speed along the water to get to where those fish are biting. It's a lot of hurry up and wait. Do you see where I'm going with this whole "likening" thing? Good, because I'm lacking in word power to pound out the specifics for you right now.
We hurry. We hurry to the doctor's office. And then we wait. We hurry to the pharmacy for the latest pain med regiment. And then we wait. We hurry up for family prayer each night, and pray for a miracle, and we are still waiting. But within those times of waiting, things do happen. Remember those beers we brought along? Let's make those Diet Pepsi. Yeah, we drink a lot of that. We surf the net on our BlackBerry's. We look at the sea urchins in the fish tank, and that reminds us of our awesome Girl's Trip to Seattle last September. Then we start remembering all the funny things mom has done and said on our girl's trips. And then we are reminded that our memory will have to do from now on. If only there was some way to record her voice, and to mimic her hand gestures. If only there was some way to keep her here forever. But we just wait.