Feet tapping, tapping, tapping. Shuffle, shuffle forward, shuffle backward, cross the ankles, uncross the ankles then tap, tap, shuffle forward, shuffle back, tap, tap, tap. The legs cross, foot pulls up to the knee, foot back on the floor. The legs uncross, cross, uncross, the feet hit the floor and she stands up to walk in place, dance in place. Can’t go far tethered to the blood pressure machine and the I.V. line like she is. She stretches and groans and lays back then sits up and stretches then taps and taps and taps. It’s like watching a cat on a hot tin roof.
Her eyes close, open, dart around the room. What is happening? This is enough to drive her right out of her mind.
She is tired, so tired yet her legs can’t stop and her feet can’t stop and the drugs won’t stop.
Her insides are cold yet her outsides sweat.
She’s wired. The port in her chest makes it easy for the drugs to flow straight into her system, to travel straight to the bad cells and attack. That’s the point of all this, right?
There is a war raging inside her body and our minds are overwhelmed with the reality of what is happening.
She is a mother and a partner and a business woman and a friend with far too much on her plate to have time for this. There is no spare time for much of anything let alone for something as outrageous as this.
Yet, there is no choice. The time is found and the treatment begins and will continue until the bad cells are dead. Fried. Obliterated. Annihilated. Gone forever and don’t come back. Do let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
Sleep is a precious commodity for my friend. Not a lot of it going around these days. Insomnia’s here though, with plenty to spare. Good ol’ insomnia. Can always count on her.
Her new short hair style is adorable. Enjoy it while I can, she says. It’s sure to fall out soon. And she is thin. Oh. So.Thin. Not an ounce of fat left.
Yet she tenaciously fights the good fight.
In eleven months we plan to have a party and invite everyone she knows. It will be a celebration of a battle well fought and won. We will celebrate the courage and strength demonstrated in her victorious battle over the evil that is cancer, and we will rejoice in the return of good health, of embracing life, and of living it to the fullest.
There has never been, nor will there ever be, a moment of doubt.
We believe in you Shannon, and are behind you all the way!
3 responses to “No Doubt”
Terrific and appealing story of a loving friend. Thanks for sharing.
Loved the story. Very touching. Thank you.
Thank you Mon! You words captured that day perfectly. And yes, a celebration is coming soon!