Fall/Winter Time Of Life

For the past couple of years I have been a member of a listserve for my class at Sarah Lawrence College. The daily/weekly/monthly sharing has been awe inspiring to me: the depth of it, the warmth, the support, the caring. Last week one of the women I didn’t know well at college, but have come to know through the list serve, told us all that she had been having trouble breathing, discovered she had liquid in her lungs and had to go into the hospital to have it drained. She, herself, has been an alternative health care provider since graduation. A few days ago she received her diagnosis: advanced stage lung cancer. The outpouring of love and offers of help has been sustaining for all of us, but for me much more has surfaced. I find myself thinking about this woman when I am falling asleep, and she is often the first thought on my mind when I awaken. Talking to a close friend in Port Townsend last night I mentioned that I feel so helpless living three thousand miles away, and don’t know what kind of help I can realistically offer. This PT friend has suffered with multiple and serious illnesses over the last few years so it was comfortable to talk about the seriousness of the diagnoses without immediately jumping to ‘she can fight this’. What if she doesn’t want to? What if she is numb, or terrified, or needs to find a way to make peace with the last part of her life so that she can leave this plane with a clear and open heart? How would I even ask? Our friendship is new. Then my close friend from town called back and said she had a suggestion. ‘It is often very difficult to talk to friends about what you’re really feeling, because your friends are so frightened they have a hard time listening. You are a perfect person to offer emotional support: whatever she needs to talk about or share, you will be there. If you can,’ she added. I didn’t have to think about it long. I knew it was the right suggestion for me, and one I could gladly offer. If I don’t know how to respond to what she shares, I know I can say that, as well as I’m glad she is able to speak about what is in her heart. I will listen, without judgement, and without solutions. That is something I am good at. Last night I sent an email offering to be that person for her, if it feels comfortable in a week, a month, or not at all. She has just returned home from the hospital, and is seeing the oncologist today, taking along a fellow graduate from SLC, one of eight boys who graduated with us, so that someone can hear what the doctor says. Several of us suggested she have someone with her, since it is difficult to remember much when we are frightened. In my own life, I am a worrier, although I know it is useless to worry. The things I worry about come to pass or they don’t. I have no idea when life-threatening illness might strike. I am of an age where it could be anytime. The illness of my new, old friend on the East Coast brought this issue home. How do I want to live this last third of my life? What do I want to let go of, like worrying, or doing activities because I should don’t enjoy, or sitting at this computer long after I am ‘done’ emotionally – the list goes on. Can I retrain myself, so that every day is filled with more joy than not, more pleasure than not, as well as the people I want to be with and the activities I really love? Most important, how do I come to terms with the face that life is finite, and that I am closer to the end point than the beginning? I need to learn about acceptance, and how to reach that place within myself so that I am less fearful about many things, not just end of life. I will probably be writing about these issues with some frequency because for me writing is a way ‘through’. I welcome your thoughts, because I always gain a great deal from the perspective of others. Perhaps we can open a dialogue about this difficult part of life and find peace with one another.