Someone Up There Has a Sense of Humor

I like astrology, not in the "weekly horoscopes" type astrology, or even as a basis to predict my future. Rather, I'm a huge fan of zodiac characteristic profiling. It's pretty spot on, in my humble opinion. Most Libra's I know are people pleasers, wanting a balance in their environment. Leo's and Aries are pretty strong-minded and stubborn. Virgo's are pretty solid, salt of the earth people. I am a proud Pisces -- pretty fluid and goes with the flow for the most part. Look up the standard character description of a Pisces and you pretty much have pegged me (well, as much as you can peg "water"). I was a March baby, born on St. Patty's Day and I love, love, love, love being a Pisces.

A year ago today (June 25, 2009), dear Dr. T said these magic words "Well, your CA-125 score is 7 and I'm happy to tell you that you are in remission." He said it! He said "REMISSION" on June 25, 2009, the day I was given a "second go" on life! So, today's my first [second] birthday!

I cannot believe a year's since passed. It is at once so near and yet so far. It's fresh, still. But, it seems like a long time ago. I haven't forgotten. But it seems the world has, or at least the world around me has. And I wish I could forget like they could. But, I know that it'll be with me for a while, because Dr. T made very clear that I was in remission and not cured. Nonetheless, I am happy to have a second birthday. I'm happy to be here watching World Cup re-runs. I'm happy to have silly arguments with my daughter. I'm happy to be getting frustrated at work. I'm happy to wake up every day, even though getting out of bed is painful on all levels. Yes. I'm happy that it's been a year and I'm still fine. I'm blessed to be alive, no matter how grumpy I get. I'm happy it has not reared its ugly head at all.

It? What's "it?" Why, cancer, of course!

But guess what? When I looked up what Zodiac sign corresponds with my June 25 "birthday," I was amused when I found out it was "Cancer!" That's when I had a good chuckle with the powers that be! Someone has a sense of humor up there.

And, I'm glad to laugh about it. Now, please pass me a piece of that wonderful [Cancer] birthday cake.

L'CHAIM!

Carpe Diem

To the Virgins, to make much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.


The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he 's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he 's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

~ Robert Herrick

How Do You Process It . . . ?

. . .when you find out that your oldest and dearest friend died in her sleep on the morning after you come back from a weekend of camping fun with other friends?

Two Sundays ago, that's just what happened. My friend Rose died in her sleep at the age of 49. I'm in a daze and I don't know if it's sunk in. Yes. I went to her family's rosary for her the evening after they found her dead in her bed. Surreal, altough very real, as I helplessly watched her three children cry with pain for their mother. Marie the oldest, who was 5 when I first met her now has 3 of her own was the one who seemed like she couldn't handle her mother's death at all. Jessica was born two months after my oldest son was born. To me, she's still a baby at 23. Bt she too has a son. And she was there, on the floor, wearing her mother's watch trying to hold on to anything...anything. And then Rose's youngest at 16, John was trying to be strong because "I have to take care of my sisters now" he whispered to me. It tore me asunder to watch them fall apart in front of their mother's picture.

Rose and I "grew" up together. We had babies together and saw each other through rough waters with men. As time went on, we headed our separate paths. She got sick and I got sick. She had diabetes and I had cancer. Neither of us wanted to let the other know that we were each were very sick. In March, Rose and her daughter Jessica attended my daughter's 21st birthday dinner. I was glad to see her after all these years. She was glad to see me. In two minutees, we were thick as thieves again, comparing notes (with a lot of that old humor) about our maladies. Just like the good old days. Like we never missed a beat.

When she was hugging me good bye, she looked at me intently and said "Never again, C. Let's not let time pass this long before seeing each other again." I agreed. That was the last time I saw her.

I've been trying to process this for the past two weeks. I've been trying to forget. I've been hoping to wake up one day and find out it was just a dream. I just don't want it to be true. It just doesn't seem right. I survived her. All her older siblings survived her. She was so young. She was so needed. She was so loved.

I should be very sad. Or very angry. But I don't know how to feel.

Many times, I"m sad. Very sad.

I don't understand.

It's just not fair.