Once again, it is New Years Eve and the early morning sky in Humptulips County is a solid rose color. I have no idea whether or not this is an omen of some kind, but will accept it for the lovely morning it has produced. The rain is gone – at least for the moment – and the prospect is for a pleasant Winter day.
Yesterday, a good friend told us by email that she had received a cancer diagnosis. As always with news of this kind, my heart jolts once or twice as I consider my own mortality in stupefied reaction. I think everyone must first process information of this nature from their own peculiar vantage point, worrying about what it might mean to them. Such a reaction is, however, inherently useless, both because it doesn’t do anyone else any good and someone else’s diagnosis has no affect whatsoever upon your own mortality. It just reminds you of it.
Nevertheless, I think such an immediate reaction is universal. People differ only in how long they spend dwelling upon such thoughts. For me, the reaction is usually only a momentary one, primarily because I am usually ashamed of thinking such thoughts in the face of someone else’s bad dream having come true.
This realization of being selfish always propels me to my next reaction: wondering just exactly what such a diagnosis might actually mean. Not being a doctor and therefore lacking the wherewithal to understand the diagnosis in a manner specific to our friend’s situation, I could only educate myself better in hope of being more supportive as matters progress. In this case, our friend identified the type of cancer and suggested that we research the information on the Internet. That is what I did next, and was vastly relieved to see that the initial diagnosis was of a type of cancer that is usually treatable without chemotherapy and isn’t usually dire. In other words, while one doesn’t want to hear bad news, if bad news it’s to be, then let it be this bad news.
At this juncture, it became clear that while there is excellent reason to assume, based upon the literature, a full recovery, I am not privy to exact information about our friend’s condition and can do no more than have faith in modern medical treatments and in the beneficence of God. It also became clear that while this was my reaction, it must also be, in a far more personal way, our friend’s reaction. For her, it must be a reaction writ truly large. At this moment, no one – neither doctor, patient, family nor friends – can see clearly through the fog of the future to know with absolute certainty how this will turn out; we can only know that the odds of a good result are strongly in her favor.
For the doctors, this diagnosis turns into hands-on assessment and treatment. Using their experience and training, they will analyze which tools must be brought into play and how best to use them, and will carry their treatment plan to completion. This is their vocation and they will begin to find their way through the fog by immediate action, treating the cancer and reacting as needed to the additional information they will acquire in doing so in the ways they believe will best suit our friend’s health.
Our friend has a hands-on job as well – keeping positive and staying as stress free as she can, notwithstanding the fact that such a diagnosis is inherently stressful. Over the years I have learned from watching others face health emergencies, that those who succeed the best at overcoming them are those with a naturally positive attitude and a strong sense of humor. Fortunately, our friend possesses both in abundance, and we know that she will bring these attributes to bear and use her mental faculties to the fullest in her personal portion of the coming fight.
And our job is to support our friend and her family in every possible way that isn’t intrusive or disrespectful of the effort required of them to stay focused upon her return to good health. This we will do the best way we know how: with lots of love and caring, with plenty of laughter and humor, and with whatever physical assistance may be requested of us. This is our New Year’s resolution.
Upon reflection, now that the day has brightened and the color has finally faded from the sky, I realize the earlier rose-colored sky was, indeed, an omen: an omen ensuring a good fight by all concerned and promising that our friend will enjoy a successful return to full health.
On such a morning as this, I have complete faith that this will prove to be true.
