...That's What She Said

When I was growing up, I never wanted to be a doctor or a nurse. I never wanted to be a counselor or a therapist. I never wanted to help people or save the world. I just wanted to write and take photographs. I wanted to inspire people to be better in my own small way, in a way where I could still stay inside my bubble and not have to talk to anyone if I didn't want to. As a child I was a loner. People liked me well enough and appreciated my creativity, but no one ever leaned on me. At most, I was a great bounce board to which they could ricochet their thoughts off of since I rarely talked back. As I grew into an adult, this started to change. At age 23, I lost a best friend to brain cancer... and the loss was a slow and painful one. I spent a year cooking organic doctor approved meals and driving them over to my friend and spending as much time talking about life and death as he wanted. I helped him shave his head. I helped him in and out of bed. I offered myself as a crutch. Three years later, I lost my stepfather to the same disease and while I wasn't present for the entire downward spiral, I caught the end of it and was the only support system my mother had. These were hard times. Now my aunt is knocking on death's door as her fight with spinal cancer is coming to a close. Yesterday, I carried her to the bathroom, helped her in and out of bed and rubbed her back until she finally fell asleep. Then drove for two hours to get to the only pharmacy that had morphine in stock and could refill her prescription (By the way, all this driving left me wondering if the outskirts of Gainesville have beaten Deltona as worst place to ever possibly live in the state of Florida). Just as when I was in New York in December, I acted as translator and mediator between my other aunt and my grandparents who cannot communicate to save their lives. I tried to give my grandparents a break from the stress, I tried to say and do the right things. I tried to be a source of strength for the family that until recently has been more like strangers to me. I have not had a lifetime of experience with how to be a good family member, but life has been training me on how to deal with cancer. It's really not fair, but there isn't much I can do other then trying to remain calm and collected in an attempt to say things that sound hopeful instead of cheesy or cliché. Then, when I'm alone in the car on my drive home I cry and wonder how many more times I will have to watch a person that I've grown to love wither into an empty husk that barely resembles a human being. How many more times will I have to help put a diaper on a grown person, hold their head while begging them to drink something or change their nose tampons that keep them from bleeding to death? How many more times am I going to have to kiss the top of a bald head, whispering that I love them and that everything is going to be ok when I know that it isn't? How many more times will I have to lie when they look into my eyes and ask me if I think that they're going to die? It isn't the death that's impossible to bear, it's the painful weeks leading up to it that keep breaking my heart and spirit. I don't think I can do this again... so, dear friends, if you could all do your best not to get cancer, I'd really appreciate it.

P.S. My birthday plans in Miami have been cancelled for this weekend. All the far away relatives are flying here to say goodbye and I'm going to have to be there to help pick them up from the airport and do whatever is asked of me. Perhaps we can reschedule sometime in April... I'm really in no rush to be 29, so I don't mind.