I am seething.
Yet another one of my dear friends has been invaded by that ruthless monster cancer. Yet another generous soul. Yet another mother who refuses to give up and leave her children. Yet another wife whose husband will be forced to carry a family through treatment. Yet another daughter whose parents will stand by, helpless to help their baby. Yet another family devastated by the possibility, the dread and fury of senseless illness.
Ironically, yesterday was my birthday and as I was driving home from work I was listening to a story on NPR about the optimistic bias most people have when faced with a diagnosis of a vile disease. My gracious and grateful friend is one of these optimists -- the announcement she made regarding her ovarian cancer is graceful and full of light and full of fight.
I'm just royally pissed. I think that's OK, though -- if she is positive and optimistic, I'll get my hands dirty and fight the fight in any way she needs. She's got the game plan and I'll take whatever orders she gives. Let me be the angry one, let me be the one to take the punches. Let me take this so that she can focus on getting well.
I do not make friends easily. I am friendly, but I'm really just a blustery introvert who can fake it when she needs to, but in her I feel that I've found a kindred spirit. Of course, she is so open and loving that I am probably one of dozens who feels this way about her, but this is MY friend we're talking about here. I lay claim to that friendship. Once again I find myself screaming at the cosmos for trying to steal MY FRIEND.
Dammit, you're not getting this one, either.