December 08, 2006 - 9:54 p.m.
My friend Donna is dying. She's my age, mid forties with a large, inoperable brain tumor. She was on experimental chemotherapy but was taken off this week. Chemo was slowing the tumor's growth but causing her bad side effects.
Donna is a vertically challenged woman with the heart of a lion and a roar to match. She didn't believe in mincing her words. Spoke whatever was on her mind. I remember three years ago, we were at a conference together. One of those weekend retreats away from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Up in the mountains with limited cell phone connection. When I first started working for Donna's Group, I was a lean, running machine at 130 lbs. I packed on twenty in two years. She saw me in sweatpants eating a raisin oatmeal cookie. And made a comment about my weight increase. I remember hearing her words and tossing the cookie in a bush after crumbling it between my fingers. Donna biked to work at least three times a week. Although she is at least four inches shorter than me, she has never been overweight until now. She looks puffy in the face and bloated from the steroid use. God/dess, I have to fight back tears in seeing her like this. A faint resemblance of her former self. She can barely speak now. And gets very frustrated when the words don't come out as planned. Functionality taken away in daily tasks, communication.
In life, nothing is permanent. I'm bracing myself for the day I have to attend Donna's funeral. She was a mentor, a friend. Can't say we were real close because we worked in different offices, 100 miles away from each other. But I would see her a half-dozen times a year at various social gatherings, retirement ceremonies. Everytime I ride my bike or motorcycle, I remember Donna. She can barely walk now. Her two bicycles and Honda motorcycle sit in the garage unused. She is a spunky person. Her husband is beside himself in sadness and depression. She has two children under age 12 who will soon be motherless. It breaks the hearts of those who know Donna and her family. Count your blessings and never take for granted your health, loved ones, acquaintances. In the flash of a camera, day after tomorrow, they could be gone forever. I've lost my own mother in 2005, a military mentor, and three friends this year to cancer and suicide. You know you've reached middle age when the losses become real, on a continuing basis.
~ Soldier Girl
