In Harm's Way

Are you busy? my friend Charli asks when I pick up my cell phone.

Not 'specially, I tell her.

Are you sitting down? she wants to know and that's when I hear the trembling in her voice, the nearness to tears. She's hanging on but only by a thread. My chest tightens and my knees unexpectedly give way. I close my eyes and sink into the sunroom loveseat with a dreadful premonition that someone I care about is dying. It could have been anything although in this day and age, good news was too much to hope for. Maybe a little musical gossip, juicy but harmless. Maybe an invitation to lunch, news of a booking or some new idea for a song. But no. Because there was that tremble in her voice, that god awful halting tone that was holding back tears, that ragged breathing.

I am now, I tell her and waited.

The words come in an incoherent rush, punctuated by sobs just this side of hysteria. Halfway through, her crying becomes wailing and for my part, the world goes dark and the little sunroom begins to swirl in and out of focus. Something inside me shuts down. I hear it. I can almost see the light leaving.

Are you alone? I ask, Is Greg home?

He's on his way, she says and her voice breaks badly. For several minutes she can't speak and I don't even try to fill the silence. It isn't awkward but it's maliciously and cruelly sad. When she gets a little control back, she tells me more about our mutual and very, very dear friend, Blue.

Stage four lung cancer. Not operable, not curable. Treatable with chemo and radiation if she chooses but only a 15 month survival rate. Wading through all the medical and technical terms and opinions is like being up to your knees in a swamp wearing steel toed boots. We do it hand in hand but at the end, there's no way of reaching the shore. The shore itself is treacherous with truth and the unbearable reality that short of a miracle, a beloved and precious friend is going to die.

Miracles do happen, I remind myself but the words are artificial and hollow. Where is my faith when I need it the most, I wonder bitterly. The sad fact is that regardless of who lives and who dies, this often miserable old world keeps turning. Tomorrow is likely to come whether you or I or Blue are here or not. Life stops for no one and in the fullness of time, we all fade into dusty memories. We are, as the saying goes, born alone and we die alone. And in between, I suspect we live more alone and more often than we recognize.

My hope is that my old friend will be granted a miracle. But if she's not, those that love her will come together and keep her company. We'll bring her whatever comfort and care we can, for as long as we can. Some will do it up close and personal, others will do it from a distance. People will say prayers and bring food, light candles and make sure she has music. Her much loved dog, a roly-poly dachshund mix, will be fed and walked and when the time comes, someone will open their own home, take him in, and give him the life she would have.

When I see her a few days later, she's smiling and optimistic and determined. She tells me about the cancer and we walk for awhile, hands comfortably 'round each other's waists, two old friends talking quietly and laughing just a little. She tells me she's going to have it treated and I tell her how glad I am although privately I can't bear thinking what chemo and radiation are likely to do to her tiny, rail-thin frame. I tell her that I understand her wanting to keep it quiet - she has visions of people whispering “dead man walking” things behind her back and she's never been able to abide people feeling sorry for her - but cancer treatment is not kind, I remind her, and people are going to notice. She shrugs and tells me she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

Everything's going to be fine, she says, smiling and perfectly dry-eyed.

I smile back.  Thinking if only I could scoop up her tiny, scrawny little self and put her in my back pocket for safekeeping.  I want so badly to take her out of harm's way.

I remember someone once telling me you must choose your battles.  There are times when it's the only choice you have.