Journal of a Living Lady #168
Nancy White Kelly
I like words. Most writers do. When a phrase or statement strikes my fancy, I often write it down to ponder upon lately. This sentence made my list yesterday. It came from a post to my on-line cancer support group: “Most oncologists (cancer doctors) consider their terminal patients to be circling the drain.”
Immediately came wails of protests from my e-mail friends who also have metastatic cancer. “Who needs a negative doctor like that?” was the most common response. While I agree that it isn’t an optimistic view, I personally consider the analogy on target.
Circling the drain. My mind pictures procrastinating water swirling around in the basin. Then the inevitable happens. The once vibrant water disappears down the dark sink hole. The question is where does it go from there? Septic hell or into a never-ending channel of living water. Whether rain or dew or drinking water, it is still H20. Isn’t immortality the same? A change in appearance and residence after circling the drain for a brief span of time.
I get a lot from a single sentence, don’t I?
While I am circling the drain, I am still living and enjoying it for the most part. The ratio now is one good day to two down days.
Last week some friends gave Charlie and Tori a wedding shower. It was a memorable day, watching a couple so obviously in love laugh and open gifts. That Saturday was one of my better days. I was so happy and appreciative of the warm, loving response given on their behalf. I consider my being around, my being a participant in the prenuptial festivities, a special gift of borrowed time from God. He has allowed me to live long enough see our son graduate from high school, college, and to find his life mate.
No doctor of mine thought it probable. To their surprise, I have been circling the drain in sustained gravity for five years. Recently I was examined by a practitioner filling in for my oncologist. After thumbing through two volumes of medical records, she poked and probed. Following several moments of quiet reflection, she asked a question I feel sure she had already answered in her mind, “You are a praying woman, aren’t you?”
I nodded, yes. “And I have been blessed by having many friends praying for me as well.”
So I am still here. Like the fairy tale children, Hansel and Gretyl, I am leaving reminders, bread crumbs, along the way to mark the trail I have traveled The bread isn’t for me. I don’t plan to journey backward. But I want to leave bread for others: the Bread of Life, giving hope and help to others who come behind.
The past is behind. The future isn’t here yet. So, for now, I will focus on the time being. Only a couple more weeks and Charlie and Tori will be husband and wife. I think I am going to cry. A mother’s tears at this junction of a child’s life are one part sadness and two parts happiness.
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June 13, 2002
