Uncomfortably Numb

94/100

The last four days of my life have been very difficult. In order to explain, it is going to seem like somehow my issues are more important than my best friend's issues. They are not. My life, in comparison to hers has little struggle, little strife and few battles. 

Many of you know my best friend has survived breast cancer for two years. Thursday I found out the cancer had returned and eaten through her hip and was in the bones of her back. She's had severe neuropathy in her face for the past month. She couldn't look at lights or use the computer and was pretty much bed-ridden from the pain.

Yesterday, she found out the cancer had reached her brain. When she called me yesterday morning to tell me, we cried together. I felt my life shift sideways.

My best friend is one of the most amazing women I know. And I know a lot of people. She has always been my cheerleader. Always supported me. Always loved me. We met almost 20 years ago and from the first time our energy connected, for me? It was like the world had been put right. I have not met a woman so strong. I have not met another woman so determined, so loving and so giving. She is my best friend and my life is full because she is in it. Always the first to offer to help, the first to suggest things in my life to support me, the first to rush to my defense, the first to hold my head when I cried over ended relationships, the first to come out swinging by my side. She is an incredible mom, taking her kids to COSI, museums, listening as her daughter grows up to be her own person. Talking about the complicated issues. My best friend and I planned on growing old together at the lake. Driving in our golf carts, mumu's and bath robes over to each other's house early in the misty mornings to drink fresh coffee and gossip about her kid's lives and her grandchildren and our lives. Even now, as I sit here, I can see us in those golf carts up at the lake, tooling around, laughing and loving each other. I am not ready to give that up. I am not ready to give up, period. 

Saturday, we both cried. We didn't say anything about the future. I tried to be strong, but I wan't very successful. By Sunday, she was ready to do whatever she needed to survive. I don't know what that will mean, likely radiation and the surgery on Monday (today) to do a hip replacement. Right now, she can't walk.

My best friend has two children, my beautiful goddaughter and her wonderful brother, 11 and 8. She also has a loving husband who also has his own battle with cancer he's fighting. If anything happens... well... besides being without my greatest cheerleader, as the godparent, my life will change considerably.

I am not ready to concede to cancer. I do not want to look down that road to some end that seems inevitable. At first, when I found out, I held on SO tightly to my life. Thinking that my life mattered. That my job mattered. That my house here mattered. Having had a day or two to process? I realize it doesn't matter. What matters is doing what I am called to do. Because in the end, I am lucky in my life to have a friend like her. I am lucky to have so many wonderful friends in my life, period. But when you make a promise to a friend, especially one involving her children, that promise is your bond. At least in my world it is. And if the day comes I have to navigate that, I will find a way to do that.

I feel grateful to every single one of my 'family' who have supported me. Even people I *just* met have been incredibly kind and loving. To every one of you with a kind word to me and a prayer for her and her family, thank you. To the amazing ladies in my writing group, who found me sobbing in my kitchen two hours after I found out about the brain cancer and who loved me and loved on me and helped me focus on my writing for a while and not my shattered heart? I love every one of you. <3

This chilly Pacific Northwest morning, I have my feet (mostly) back on the ground. I am alive and so is she. Today? That is what I have. Tomorrow? I will deal with tomorrow.

I will be leaving for the summer to spend my time in Ohio with her and her family. She will require 6 weeks of therapy to be able to walk again. I will stay there as long as I can. I won't be able to do the triathlon, but my friend Perry is going to help me ship my bike there, so I will have a bike to ride with my goddaughter this summer. (Thanks Perry! You are such an awesome guy!) I'm going to try to keep up with my swimming and walking. Perhaps when I get home, my friend Trish and I can find another smaller triathlon to do in September. I don't want to give up on the idea of doing a triathlon, I just realize I can't do the one in August.

Again, just in case I haven't had the chance in person, I love you. I say it to my family whenever I talk to them and I am saying it to you, because in the end, it isn't *really* blood that makes a family, is it?

Peace,

MaryKate