Thursday, November 15, 2007

The sword

The sword hangs by a thread. We received a reprieve three weeks ago. The doctors said no to radiation and surgery. We were elated. Now we see the sword and we are not elated. We are watching the thread.

The sword has some words printed on it and unless you get right under it you can not read it. The words are "because it won't matter". Let me explain.

In the normal process of things cancerous there is a primary tumor. If you are lucky enough to find it early then you can attack it and get rid of it. The result is freedom. If you catch it a bit later then you can attack it with chemo and surgery and a bit of radiation and the result is freedom. If you don't catch it in time then chemo is your shot because it has become systemic and widespread. Surgery won't get it and radiation can't cover all of the items. They don't matter because they would not work.

Chemo is like a hammer that goes after all the fast dividing cells whether they are cancerous or hair cells. It goes after them all. Surgery is designed to pick out the obvious and larger item. Radiation is a pinpoint accurate device. If the problem is widespread then you can't get it all with surgery and there are too may pinpoints.

I am watching the sword for signs of movement.

Vampires

Vampires come in all shapes and sizes. Regardless of size or shape they all suck the very lifeblood out of you. It is hard to defend against them at first or to even recognize them. As time goes on it becomes easier to see them, know who they are and defend against them.

I knew a guy who went to a funeral for a friend's son. The ex-wife was complicit in the child's death and the difference in the two could not have been greater. My friend felt compelled to sit behind the ex wife whom he knew, as no one else in the chapel would sit behind her. On the ex husband's side a full contingent of people sat in support. There was no difference in grief but only in solace. My friend sat there through the entire ceremony and Mass then paid his respects to both the mother who was alone and the father who was supported.

We had a drink later and he told me he could feel the grief and suffering and hate and it was both visceral and tangible. He experienced it as an outsider but also as an insider. He felt so bad but he couldn't let go. He was a vampire in a room full of vampires.

I spoke with a friend the other day and this guy wanted details, as many as I would provide. I fended him off because I knew he was a vampire. He wanted some vicarious experience. I figured this out quickly as he turned the first few points back to his own experience and his pain at some earlier time. I excused myself and swiftly left the room.

Another friend truly has concern and he listens and never prompts. He never speaks about his own experience but sometimes commiserates saying things like "That is a real kick in the head, man. I don't know how you guys deal with it." We don't either but the care and concern he has makes it easier.

Another vampire friend wallows in the experience. This person is an acquaintance and they want all the details and rock back and forth and moan and cry. I used to tell them details but I caught on and now I give vague statements.

I know it seems harsh but tragedy and suffering bring out the strangest things in some people. People seem to be either truly concerned or they are in denial or they are vampires. After talking to them it is easy to see them hiding there in the shadows waiting to bite.