The Real Deal
I've been worming about all my little problems and concerns these months, this fall, winter and spring. Poor business sense and judgement, I guess, my puny little problems. I just watched Pamela drive out of the parking lot with Ronald, on their way to Boston. She has breast cancer. Today she will learn whether she has a death sentence, or something curable, depending upon whether the cancer has metastasized or been caught before its spread to her organs. It's hit or miss.
All she knew, about a month ago or less, was that she had an unexplained rash on her chest. Otherwise, she was asymptomatic, feeling strong and healthy. Time for Change takes on new meaning in the company of death, the real deal. This woman seems to be as kind and gentle as anyone I know. Sweet, trusting, a woman of faith. There is no sense to make of her life-threatening cancer. Pam's predicament is not fair nor righteous nor just. Yes, I dare say this, not the religious cant that it is not for us to understand the ways of God. This is a cruel and meretricious sentence.
Pam drives with her husband to the hospital,Dana Farber, among the very best there is, but even the beste doctors there cannot save her if the disease has moved too fast, too far. She has no complicity in the diagnosis. It is black or white, she will die or live. It will be her ill-fortune or good luck, and that is all there is. Thumbs up or down. And if she is fortunate to receive a reprieve, then she will have her work cut out, just to survive the chemotherapy and surgery and stress. At that point, she will be complicit in her own survival, after her body's betrayal of her spirit, harboring this sureptitious disease. Now, for a few hours, she will not know her fate. The verdict the doctors, in a sense, her jury will find or what news they will deliver. Right now, she can hope for is the much better of the terrible news, that she can live an uncircumscribed, longer life, or not. They have not yet told her sister of the news. This is an ugly piece of work. Right now, there is nothing more to say. We wait.
All she knew, about a month ago or less, was that she had an unexplained rash on her chest. Otherwise, she was asymptomatic, feeling strong and healthy. Time for Change takes on new meaning in the company of death, the real deal. This woman seems to be as kind and gentle as anyone I know. Sweet, trusting, a woman of faith. There is no sense to make of her life-threatening cancer. Pam's predicament is not fair nor righteous nor just. Yes, I dare say this, not the religious cant that it is not for us to understand the ways of God. This is a cruel and meretricious sentence.
Pam drives with her husband to the hospital,Dana Farber, among the very best there is, but even the beste doctors there cannot save her if the disease has moved too fast, too far. She has no complicity in the diagnosis. It is black or white, she will die or live. It will be her ill-fortune or good luck, and that is all there is. Thumbs up or down. And if she is fortunate to receive a reprieve, then she will have her work cut out, just to survive the chemotherapy and surgery and stress. At that point, she will be complicit in her own survival, after her body's betrayal of her spirit, harboring this sureptitious disease. Now, for a few hours, she will not know her fate. The verdict the doctors, in a sense, her jury will find or what news they will deliver. Right now, she can hope for is the much better of the terrible news, that she can live an uncircumscribed, longer life, or not. They have not yet told her sister of the news. This is an ugly piece of work. Right now, there is nothing more to say. We wait.
posted by Stonechuck at 9:13 AM
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