It's been ages since we had lunch together. I could tell she really wasn't all that hungry, but at least she ate.
And as I looked across at her, I was having trouble comprehending just how sick she is.
CANCER
And to look at her, you'd never even know it. Unless you looked closer and saw the slight shadows under her eyes, and noticed that the color of her skin wasn't really tan, as it appears at first glance, but actually is tinged with yellow--- a subtle sign of the hideous disease that's invaded her liver.
She has the most amazing attitude of anyone I've ever met. She's taken everything in stride, and looks at the whole situation like, "well, there's nothing I can do to change it, so I might as well go through it."
I, however, would not be nearly as strong. It took me three tries to get over to her office the other day to talk to her. Every time I stood up, I started crying. I can't even fathom the thoughts that must be playing through her mind. I know the thoughts that are running through mine, and it's not even happening to me.
And as I sat across from her, I couldn't help but feel very frightened for her. And frightened that I might lose her. That this time in a year she may not be here. Frightened for what she's going to be going through the next few months. Chemo, radiation, surgery... and then isn't it strange how the most insignificant things strike you in the midst of the most significant trials? Heather has beautiful, long, dark hair. I wondered if she'd lose it, and it made my eyes almost tear up. Last thing to be worrying about, eh?
I don't believe in the power of positive thinking- what's going to happen will happen, and no amount of happy thoughts is going to change that one little bit. Either she'll make it or she won't. Period.
So where does the whole faith thing come into play?
Big time struggle at the moment.
In my heart, I know the whole faith "thing" is what carries you through the trial. It's an inner reaction to outer circumstances beyond your control. Regardless of the outcome, I know faith is what holds you together, holds your family and friends together, it's what your entire life is based on. I know that's where her inner strength is coming from. Regardless of whether she is healed or not, I know her faith won't be shaken.
And I also know that faith only in the good times is not true faith. "Good times only" faith is standing in front of the entrance to a tunnel, and having a giant hissy fit, refusing to go in unless you can see the light at the end. Real faith is stepping forward into the dark and knowing the light is there without being able to see it.
But I guess the kicker is that life doesn't give you an option. You HAVE to go through the tunnel regardless of whether you can or can't see the light.
I know this, and I believe this. But my there are too many thoughts running through my head, and I'm having trouble hearing my heart.
My head is screaming that it's not fair, that someone should do something, that Heather should be more worried, more upset, and not so calm and serene because it's CANCER for goodness sake and it's BAD. I don't want her to be sick, I don't want her to die, I don't want... don't want... don't want.......
But once the voice in my head gets hoarse from all the yelling.... I can hear that still small voice again. Not the voice of positive thinking, but the voice of faith. There is a chance that she'll be okay. And there's a good chance that she won't. And no, my thinking isn't going to influence the outcome one way or another. Kind of like that tunnel. She's got to go through it- either fearful and frightened because she can't see the light at the end, or at peace because she knows it really is there. It's the perspective that changes the journey.
I need to hang onto that. 'Cause I, and everyone else who loves her, is heading though that tunnel with her. Might as well choose the right perspective.
Damn cancer.
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