[personal|cancer] Thoughts and condolences

Went walking this morning here in Austin. (Round Rock, actually, for those keeping score.) The pre-dawn darkess was in the 70s, and the air had that very familiar smell of live oak and cedar and limestone and leftover heat. Not to mention the glorious chicken fried steak I ate part of last night at the Hyde Park Bar and Grill. And yes, I had a salad first.

Yeah, I used to live here.

A bit after I went to bed last night, [info]tillyjane a/k/a my mom called. Our friend with the cancer very similar to mine had just passed away. He was diagnosed in December, underwent surgery promptly thereafter, and has been in chemo these past two months until that was discontinued due to his body’s intolerance for the treatment. He was referred to hospice care last week, but continued to decline.

First and foremost, my condolences go to him and his family, who are also friends and acquaintances of mine. His adult children were only 100 miles away, in the process of driving up from California to see him one last time, when he passed. That has to be a terrible feeling.

As I’ve mentioned before, though none of what is going on right now is about me, this still causes enormous internal echoes. We shared a disease. We had a similar progression. I can see myself in him.

At the same time, another friend and cancer survivor just had an ambiguous test result, and is going in shortly for more detailed testing.

So, yeah, sick of this. Scan next Thursday, oncology consult a week from Monday. If I were prone to magical thinking, I’d believe the universe was sending me messages. Instead, I’ll settle for garden variety fear.

At least right now I’m in a place I like, with people I enjoy, doing something I love.

6 thoughts on “[personal|cancer] Thoughts and condolences

  1. AimeeK says:

    Having been recently diagnosed with stage IIIc colon cancer (like two weeks ago), I’m currently in Surreal Land, on my way to Anxiety Gorge. It is, however, oddly comforting to read about others’ struggles with the monster. If nothing else, I’m not alone – and I have a fantastic support network.

    Here’s to the people who keep us sane and non-puddle-like.

    1. Jay says:

      I’m very sorry to hear that, and I do understand. My blog has extensive discussion of the travails of colon cancer, starting from April, 2008. I am trying to get around to making an index for those posts, but they may be useful.

      And yes, our people save us.

      Good luck and good health to you.

  2. pelican says:

    I’m very sorry for your friend and his family. Cancer sucks.

  3. Cora says:

    I’m sorry to hear about your friend. My sympathies to you and his family.

    And of course, I’ll also be keeping my fingers crossed for your upcoming scans.

  4. Thinking of you, sending warm squishies and lots of love. s.

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