I was a Tuesday Girl -- hanging at the Chemo Bar with my fellow patrons. Eight of us attached to our poles, the 'good' poison dripping. Different cancers. Different diagnosis. Different ages. Different backgrounds, men, women -- all united by this ugly, sh*tty cancer.
Happened upon my friend "Bob" this week. Bob had lymphoma. I walked into the hospital cafeteria and there he was having lunch with his wife, laughing, looking good. Our eyes caught. Big smiles. We are the only two left out of our Tuesday family of eight.
"Take THAT cancer!" he said, as he fist pumped.
"Bob" and I had come a long way.
He was a gruff and grumpy old dude when we started treatment. Dragging my pole behind me, I would bring him warm blankies and coffee. Told him corny jokes. Whatever I could do to make him smile. We saw each other through some tough days. He gave me fatherly advice about life. We were an odd couple.
We didn't know WHY this had happened to us. But we did know, we weren't going to waste any time trying to figure it out. We were gonna kick a$$ and take names later.
It's been four years. Those Tuesdays and those friendships aren't something I'll ever forget.
Nor do I want to.
Sometimes, sh*t happens.
Sometimes there's no explaining it.
Sometimes it will never make sense.
Sometimes it just IS what it IS.
Sometimes it's just not worth the energy to figure out 'why.'
Why are "Bob" and I surviving? Can't know, so:
Life is sweet. Stay young, go dancing.