I spent the afternoon with my friend D. It seemed as if she had beaten breast cancer a few years ago, but just learned that it has spread to her bones, and the doctors have called it “incurable.” When I received the news, via an email from a mutual friend, while riding the train home from work, my heart sank as low as it could sink.

This was the first time I had seen/spoken to her and I felt very fortunate that she had asked me to accompany and drive her to a couple of art openings because her pain meds make it difficult to drive. I had so many questions to ask her… some of which I asked, others of which I was afraid to ask because it was too terrible to contemplate. I guess you could say I was protecting myself, almost as much as I wanted to protect her. I am not sure how I would handle it if I were in her situation.

I can take comfort and inspiration in her will to live, which is strong and resolute. I cling to the hope that treatment can slow it down or even restore some of what she has lost in her bone mass. I cling to the word–restore. I know it can happen.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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