It’s Christmas Eve day.
The aroma of my Jamie Oliver-inspired gravy wafts gently throughout rooms regaled in ornaments, decorations, pine boughs and tiny lights.
Another half hour and I’ll start lighting some candles.
Carols are playing softly in the background while Daughter and Husband work diligently on a holiday puzzle.
But this is not the post that I’d written and had ready to share. I’ve scrapped that and as I type, I cannot get over the feeling that I’ve been punched in the gut. Earlier today I learned that a dear, dear friend is in the fight of her life with a brain tumor.
Less than a month ago she was the happy, healthy, caring single mother of three that we have all known and loved. She is full of grace and gentle spirit and a calm resolve that is incredibly reassuring.
A nurse by profession, she is a carer by instinct. Softspoken with a ready smile, warm hug, gentle squeeze of the hand or a rub on your back, she has the most genuine eye contact you can imagine.
She also happens to be the very reason why I have become a writer, without her even knowing it or having ever uttered the word.
It all goes back to a conversation we had almost three years ago, just a week before I left the US to move to the Netherlands. Sitting on her back porch sipping a delicious California red amid the gently swaying Carolina pines, we spoke and reminisced and shared.
In the midst of this peaceful evening, she said something that has stayed with me ever since. A seed of an idea was planted in my mind, and over time it grew and took shape until I was forced to acknowledge it and take action. And despite seeing her the following summer on a trip back to the US, I never found the chance to remind her of that conversation and her prophetic words.
My friend woke up one morning a little more than three weeks ago and things seemed off, slightly unbalanced. As symptoms worsened over the next two days, she was having a brain scan and admitted to a topnotch hospital nearby; brain surgery was performed just a few days later.
When I read the name of her surgeon, a world renowned tumor specialist, my blood ran cold. He is, quite simply put, the very best brain surgeon dealing with aggressive tumors in the US. Probably in the world. He treats the rich and famous and poor and unknown alike. His is the second opinion that so many scramble to procure.
He is very, very good. And if he has your case, it is very, very bad.
I’m working hard to concentrate on the first sentence.
If faced with this, you’d want him and his team behind you. They ply their trade, and many people get better. Some don’t, but others find the miracle they need. We have already received a miracle in having her here with us today. Only time will tell whether it will be of a more enduring sort.
The pathology results haven’t come back yet, but it seems radiation and chemotherapy are in the offing in the days ahead. Moved to a rehabilitation facility after the surgery, my friend has done well enough to finally be released and was allowed to return home yesterday.
It’s going to be a very quiet Christmas and New Year’s for her, but she’s overjoyed to be back home with her family. Never, ever one to complain, she is appreciative of how well she is doing and eager to face the daunting way ahead. More than that, she is glad for time with her children and extended family.
The other day I received a lovely compliment from a fellow blogger about always finding joy in what I have. I guess it is true, because despite our best hopes, I know in my heart that many of us are dealing with just the kind of news that I received today.
Sometimes we are blessed with the happiest of words: ‘I’m pregnant’ or ‘it’s a girl!’ or ‘we’re engaged’ or ‘I got the job’. But other times we deal with the call in the middle of the night, the knock at the door, or the chilling words ‘it’s malignant’ or ‘he’s not responding to treatment’. So many are dealing with the aftermath of pain, heartache, and loss.
With one year drawing to a close and another about to begin, this time of year is always one given to both retrospection and introspection. I’m no different. I like to take stock, turn the events of the past year over and over in my mind, readjust as needed and set a course for the coming year.
I’m still going to do that, just as I’m going to enjoy Christmas and the holidays with my loved ones. But it’ll be tempered with the knowledge that time is passing. My thoughts will drift to my friend and others. Memories will be closer to the surface, and my prayers will come more readily.
Of one thing I’m certain. There’s a conversation I want to, no, need to have. One in which I express my gratitude for her friendship and that little seed she planted ages ago.
Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas and lovely holiday season.
I’ve just lit my candles for your friend…
Hi Linda,
My thoughts and prayers are with you, your friend and her family. Thank God she was able to be home for Christmas. I know that the love and warmth that surround her will help in the healing process.
Warm wishes for a beautiful Christmas,
Anne
I’m sorry to hear you’ve had such bad news but thank you for sharing it with us. As you so rightly say, now is a time to remember those less fortunate and be thankful for what we have. Merry Christmas to you and to your friend also.
Thank you for sharing your story. This friend has obviously touched your life and those of others. Best wishes in supporting the person who has supported you. May all the hope of Christmas spirit go with her during her tenuous recovery.
I’m sorry to hear your news, and hope and pray for the health of your friend.
As you said, this time of year encourages retrospection and introspection. I’m learning the importance of using the time we have productively – I feel so many years of my life have slipped by without being properly lived. I will never get back the time it has taken me to reach this more balanced state of mind. But now I’m here I MUST make good use of it.
Have that conversation with your friend, do all you mean to do – the worst thing will be to regret the things you DIDN’T do…
Happy Christmas to you and yours and here’s to a cracking 2012 xxx
My dear friend, this is incredibly devastating news, more poignant at this time of year, perhaps, than any. I know you’ll reach deep and find strength to cope with this and help your friend. As I sit listening to midnight mass, my thoughts are with you.
Thank you all so very much. I appreciate your thoughts, prayers and candles for my friend and her family. She was able to attend Christmas Eve service last night at her church and was smiling widely. It is a rocky road ahead for her, but she has such lovely faith. I’ve gone back and added 2 sentences to my post to help clarify: ‘We have already received a miracle in her being here with us today. Only time will tell whether it is of a more enduring sort.’
We should all be grateful to your friend if it was something she said that inspired you to write. Best wishes to you both.
That has to be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, thank you. Hope southern Florida is treating you well, Merry Christmas!
I was very moved by this post. Warm wishes to you on a quiet evening in Kingston, Jamaica… I hope your friend makes a steady recovery. She sounds strong and calm, and that will help. Memories always do come closer to the surface at this strange end of the year period, don’t they? Wishing you the best for 2012 and I will keep reading…
Thank you for your kind thoughts and words Emma. This time of year certainly gets us thinking. I’m hopeful that 2012 continues as a time of healing for her.
I am so very sorry for your friend and her family. I want to hold on to the hope that she is in the best hands and that her strength will prevail.
News like these make us all take a pause in our busy lives and think what we have and give thanks.
My best wishes for you and your dear ones in the New Year.
The very same to you and yours, Aledys. So much to be thankful for, and so much in this world to pray for and act on. It can seem overwhelming until you sort it all out.
I am so sorry to hear about your friend. My prayers go out to her and her family, and to you.
These things remind me that how ever tired I am when getting up for the 10th time when my toddler is sick and calling for me, these quiet times in the middle of the night with a feverish little boy are precious too. Time is fleeting, and every moment must be treasured.
Exactly! What he’ll remember is that you were there to soothe him when he needed you.
I’m only now catching up on some blog reading, and I’ve come across this a few days late. While it may, on the surface, seem a morbid tale to tell on Christmas, it really is fitting for the season. When better but now to be reminded that life is short, our blessings many, and the greatest gift of all is time with our loves.
I’m sorry to hear this news, Linda. And I hold your friend and her children in my thoughts.
Thank you Erica. She’s really an incredibly strong woman who is looking forward to taking this head-on, through chemo/radiation. All is not lost.
I am so sorry to hear that. We take our health, family, and friendships for granted until they are unstable. I will hold her in my thoughts.
Wishing you a wonderful New Year in the Neatherlands! XOL
Thank you so much, I really appreciate that. So true about taking things for granted, it’s human nature to think the good stays good and the bad goes away. We’re hoping that she goes through the chemo/radiation fire and comes out on the other side healthier.
Great post. I will be facing many of these issues as well..
Thank you Herminia. It happens to many of us, often when we least expect it.