I am trying me best to enjoy my break from school. It's so great to not be stuck on the couch with a book, paper or computer. This break is good for me. It makes the OCD me happy to be able to deep clean and catch up on laundry. Already this morning, I've got chili and a pork shoulder in crockpots. I've had Christian music playing. It's my happy place or should be.
There's this dark cloud lingering overhead. I suppose that's normal when you are trying to accept and process the impending death of a friend. It's heavy on my heart. I got another dreaded phone call and text yesterday. My friend had to be taken to the hospice house because she was in pain.
The goal for her is to get her pain under control with IV meds enough to give her a couple days at home. If they can get that, then she will return to hospice house for the last of her days. Her remaining days are few. They also don't know if they can give her her hearts desire, but they are trying.
Over the past few days, friends have helped her and her family plan her funeral. I'm trying to process that and I can't. This really is the end.
Shortly after her first round of surgeries, she had a colostomy. My friend isn't good with medical stuff. At a girls night, she had massive problems with her bag and had to leave early. The next day when I checked on her, she said "I hate this shitty mess." Well friend, that's how I feel now.
Up to today, I had chosen not to call her. First of all, I can barely think of her without bursting into tears. I didn't think that would be encouraging to her. Second, I've held onto hope that I would see her again. As I've figured out that's not going to happen, I've gone back and forth. I was told last night, that I waited too long to call her.
This morning, I sat and wrote a text to her in hopes her family will read it to her. My heart broke and the tears flowed, but I didn't make the text sad. Even though it was a final goodbye, it wasn't a sad goodbye. I let her know how much I loved her and what her friendship has meant to me. I don't have to say goodbye since I'm confident in the promise of heaven. For my own selfish heart, I needed her to know how much I valued her.
There's no place I'd rather be right now than back in KC. When she was diagnosed, I made her a lap quilt. She's always freezing and it was pretty clear she was going to have a long road of chemo treatments. As I say in the hospital with her the day I took it to her, I told her she'd never walk a step of this journey alone.
Ultimately that is true. God has been with her every step. So has her family. And her friends. But the the reality is that only she has experienced this journey in her shoes. I can't imagine the fear and anxiety she must have felt at times. She's a highly anxious person anyway. You'd never know cause she puts on a brave, no non sense face most of the time.
When she found out what my issues were, she shared quite openly with me her struggles. Despite her anxiety, she couldn't be medicated for it or she would have lost her job. She was flight trainer for commercial pilots. She always told me she was going to take me up and cure my fear of flying. I always laughed at that.
I can't yet wrap my head around all of this. Right before her diagnosis two years ago, we grabbed lunch on a rainy day when she wasn't working. She was fine. There was no sign that this evil monster was growing in her. Here we are two years later and we are preparing to not have her. I can't yet adjust my life to not expect her quirky "what's up" text every month or so.
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