My childhood friend C has somewhere between three to five years left to live according to the statistical survival rates for her condition. A few days ago we spend a couple of hours talking about random things, gossip, work life balance (or the lack of it), memories from long ago days and so on. She talked about her condition and treatment - the fact that she is doing reasonably well at the moment. We made plans to visit each other. I did not tell her I felt a great sense of urgency - if I could take off a week next month, I would do that, take the train from Healthrow that would bring me right to her house.
But it felt wrong to act so desperate. She said this year would be hard for her to travel she promised next year to come over. Talking to C was wonderful - at the core of her is the person I always knew her to be. She refuses to feel old or sick - always the fighter and never one to shy away from an unsurmountable challenge. That is how she has achieved the things she has in life. I have never met her husband but by her description he sounds like a man who deserves a woman as exceptional as C.
She inspired and energized me despite the tragic realities of her own life. Then we got off the phone and I found myself sobbing like a child. Those two hours had taken a lot of effort - to shove away what I was feeling, acting completely normal to adequately respect the heroic fight C was fighting. The next couple of days went in a blur as I went through the motions of my daily life. There was a deep gratitude that the center of my life was still holding, that I was not being given unsolvable problems to deal with.
And with that was a settling sense of finality about the time C and I have left as friends. How should I make it count. What can I do to make this a happy time for her without making her feel like I see a death sentence hanging over her head. For one thing I want to call her more often have more mindless conversations about nothing, for the hour or two pretend that we both have control over destiny.
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