The Big "C"

From gettyimages.com

I sat in Oncology next to the frail and stoic ol' mountain man, as we waited for him to finish his liter of IV fluids. The chemotherapy patients around us talked with us about priceless time. "We always think, I'll do this, or that, or whatever...someday. For most, someday never comes," I say. "Back in the day," the lovely older woman close by began, "...our parents and grandparents were happier with less. They lived a simple life in simpler times and they worked hard, but they seemed to be able to enjoy just the little things much more than we do today. By today's standards, they would have been deemed 'poor', but they were richer, I think, in every way that matters. Now, we just work and work for more stuff, day in, day out, until we die or we're too sick to do anything else." The mountain man grunted his agreement. My mind kept trying to process all that was lost amidst supposed gains in the world around us, and all the things of true value that we can never beg for, borrow, or steal.

A vivacious seventy-five year old volunteer approached us. "Would you like a snack? Something to drink?" she offered. "I'll take a Sprite and maybe a Ginger Ale for him?" I asked. "Coming right up, honey," she said. When she returned, she had a basket full of nabs. I selected two things I thought the mountain man might try. "He won't eat," I told her. She scolded him. "Sonny, I've beaten cancer twice now and lived to tell the tale...obviously," she laughed and threw up her hands in mini-celebration. "Now I volunteer here during the week, because I can! Pay it forward, ya know?" she said, doing a little jig. Then, she leaned in close, all playfulness aside, looked him in the eyes and said, "You can do this. Fight like hell, you hear me?" "I'll try," he said on a sigh, giving his tentative agreement. Then he tightly squeezed my hand. I flat out refused to embarrass him by crying, so I didn't even glance his way.

Once our friendly volunteer was gone off to spread her upbeat spirit with other souls who needed it, he and I sat in utter silence. I offered  him a raisin, which he took and absently ate, as his eyes stared off into nothingness space. I knew he wanted to be almost anywhere but here. Still, many around him giving off positive vibes in spite of their circumstances was good for him to see. He needed to get to something beyond him, beyond HIS cancer. Time...precious time is something he can never have back, whatever regrets come for him, haunting his waking hours. Hope is all he has, except for my hand, holding his in this moment, reminding him that whatever comes, we'll face it together. I am inspired, at least, by this collection of people all around whose actions say, "Not today, cancer. You cannot  have me today." And today, it didn't take him either.