It’s Complicated

“I don’t know how to say this or when is the right time so I’m just going to say it. Laurie is much worse, her cancer has spread, you need to call Brian. Honey it’s really bad.” My Husband said the moment we entered the house. I had just dropped my luggage on the kitchen floor after traveling 22+ hours home from Tanzania. I was badly in need of a shower and a nap, but instead I called Laurie’s son Brian and asked if I could come visit. Steve and I drove to New Hampshire to visit my childhood friend of 48 years. Laurie was entering the end stage of her earthly life, although I would not believe that for another week.

Four days prior, I stood on the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro. I had achieved both of my lofty goals: raise over $10,000. For LLS and climb Kili. Eighteen months after enduring a brutal chemo regimen and a bone marrow transplant, I slammed the door on Leukemia. Cancer was in the rear view mirror as far as I was concerned. I returned home full of confidence, my customary optimism front and center.  I could handle whatever life threw at me, or so I thought. My celebratory mood was short lived.

We arrived at Laurie and Ken’s house Thursday afternoon. Only immediate family were there; Laurie’s parents, two children and husband Kenny. We went to the living room and talked with Ken and Tom (Laurie’s dad) for a bit. Shortly thereafter Kenny’s two older children arrived. One of the beautiful characteristics about Laurie was her loving acceptance. Ken had two children by two different women when he and Laurie started dating. She was unperturbed by their existence. Beyond that, she completely accepted and loved them. Remarkable. Anyway, we stayed in the living room and talked. I was anxious to see Laurie, but sensitive that this was precious time for her family. Before too long I was able to enter the darkened room where Laurie was lying in a hospital bed. We talked for a few minutes, nothing earth shattering. I mentioned our grade school days, and then asked her if she had the strength to keep fighting. She looked me in the eye and said, “Yes I’m going to fight just like you did, I am still fighting.”  She tired quickly. I know all about fatigue so I took my cue and said goodbye. It was time for us to leave. I felt that we had imposed on family time already.  “I know you will have relatives visiting all weekend. Would it be possible for me to stop in early next week?” I inquired. “Yes of course” was the kind reply.

I returned alone, the following Tuesday. Again, her family allowed me to spend valuable time with her. Kenny and I went in together. Laurie was in and out of consciousness. Kenny left us alone and I lay in the bed next to her and held her hand. She recognized me and we exchanged a few words. Even though her condition had deteriorated, I still believed she could recover. Her breathing was strong and regular. I remarked on it and she humored me, “yes I’m doing well” was her response. Yvonne, Laurie’s oldest and closest friend arrived. I know Yvonne well, but my connection to her has always been through Laurie. It was time for these dear friends to be alone. I surrendered my spot on the bed. As I stood by her bedside, stroking her hair and saying goodbye Laurie looked at me and said, “I’m sorry.” I was stunned. “Laurie you have nothing to apologize for” I assured her. Those were her last words to me. She knew the end was near and she was concerned about me. I was notified of her passing Thursday morning.

The wake and the funeral were beautiful. Several people, including Yvonne spoke eloquently at the wake. There were some good laughs. Laurie had a tremendous sense of humor and she loved to laugh. I felt terribly conspicuous. Everyone knows that I survived cancer. Was my presence an ugly reminder of life’s capricious nature? Would her family resent seeing me? It would be natural to wonder why I lived and Laurie died. I wondered myself. Why was Laurie taken from us? It made no sense. I survived a cancer that kills 74% of adults that are afflicted with it. Laurie succumbed to breast cancer. Why?

Don’t misinterpret my words. This is not survivors’ guilt. I am profoundly grateful to be alive. I understand exactly how fortunate I am and how miraculous my recovery is. For a long time it was all about me. My survival. My recovery. My triumph over cancer. Suddenly I need to develop a coping mechanism for the loss of a friend. This is hard. My post cancer life is complicated. So this is Life after Leukemia as well, learning to deal with people you love dying from cancer.