When cancer comes to call, it is entirely unexpected. We have spent no anxious days wondering about a suspicious lump, and no sleepless nights waiting for test results. Except in hindsight, there isn’t a single suggestion of cancer’s imminent visit. No, on this raw January day, cancer broadsides our family when it causes my husband to have a seizure in the middle of a Lone Star Cafe where we’re eating lunch. In six hours flat we speed from fajitas and salsa in the suburbs, through two local hospitals, and on to a big downtown ER. There, we’re warehoused until we can see a neurosurgeon about the scary grey mass that shows up on a CT of Paul’s brain.
Tag: death
Reaching the Front
“A young person’s death is like a shipwreck at sea. An older person’s passing is a ship coming into port.”
I was at a funeral today. That fact alone is enough to make me feel introspective, but when the person being remembered is someone I’ve known my whole life, that introspection is pushed into high gear.
I’ve written before about growing old, and I would have to say that at my stage of life, I’m already not a big fan. Although I don’t feel half my actual age, here’s the thing.
Remember the days when little boys used to play with armies of toy soldiers, lining them up in rank and formation on the hearth rug while mother churned butter or kneaded bread? Neither do I, but you get the picture. Continue reading “Reaching the Front”