A friend is dying

By MARY JANE HOLT
Contributing Writer

It's hard to write these days. It's hard to think. Hard to just let myself go at this keyboard. A friend is dying.

As a 24-year cancer survivor at this point, I am confident that she has broken a great number of records among those labeled as "dying." More than a decade ago, she was one of the first individuals in the country to take Tomaxifen. While it was still considered an experimental drug, her church and community helped raise money to cover trips to Texas and the expenses involved in being able to gain access to the new drug.

Since that time she has become familiar with many old and new chemotherapies. I sometimes wonder if there's any cancer fighting drug that her doctors have not tried.

Those who know her well consider her stubbornness to be what has kept her alive over the past two and a half decades. In recent years, her faith has given her tremendous comfort and peace. She may be the one person on earth who has asked more questions about faith, God, and religion than I have.

Just last week we were talking again about death and dying. Well, actually, we were not talking about dying. She won't do that. We were discussing what comes after the death of our bodies.

I told her she could hang out here with me after she dies if she's still too stubborn at that point to move on. "But I would be ghost!" she exclaimed. "Won't that bother you?"

What's one more? I responded.

You have ghosts?

Well, I don't know. I haven't actually seen one around here, but strange things happen. They've been happening on this property since before we ever built our home.

Do you really think some folks linger behind and don't go straight back to God?

Sure I do, but my mother didn't. When she breathed her last breath she was gone. I felt her spirit leave the hospital. Faaaaaaast! It literally zoomed over me. One of the strangest experiences I have ever had.

And your daddy?

Not fast. He lingered. I actually felt like I could sense his presence once at the grave site. It was about three months after his death and I could swear I felt his arm go around my shoulders. And he has appeared in my dreams several times.

They say that's how they make themselves known. In our dreams.

I have lots of flowers.

I love flowers.

I know.

You want me to come see your flowers?

Yes. I'm planting them for you.

But I don't think I will be able to come to the reunion.

(I'm planning a high school class reunion for October.) I know. Besides most of the flowers will probably not be blooming then. Maybe you could come for my birthday in July. We'll have a party!

Yeah, I'll come then for your birthday.

We'll plan on It.

But plans are fragile things in the lives of those who are dying. Sunday night she was in the Emergency Room until nearly midnight. She's developed blood clots in her right leg.

Yesterday morning the doctors refused to give her the weekly chemotherapy treatment. Her blood count was too low. She is confined to her wheelchair now with a half dozen fractures in her spine and pelvis. Nothing kills the pain.

And nothing kills her spirit.

Those who do not know her wonder how she has survived so much. How she lasts ... how she lives and lives so well in spite of all the odds against her.

I'm convinced it's her stubborn streak. Her rebelliousness. Her strong will.

Just a month or so ago, her nephew loaded her wheel chair and luggage into her car for her and she headed for the beach. Alone. To a favorite spot. This time she picked the best hotel in the area, not the more affordable one of times past. It was close to the waves that could chase the pills that lull her to sleep at night. The pain is so bad that sleep does not come easily.

Nor does letting go. I feel like a part of me may die with her if and when she does ever let go. I believe a part of her will stay with me if and when she ever leaves this realm. I feel many things this morning. As always, this keyboard has proved to be my friend ...