One of my best pals, and the reason I have a home in the desert, has been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma.
Pat has not been feeling well for a long time, and during that time she was distracted with many bumps in her road: the loss of her mother to Alzheimer's; her only sister to cancer; her older husband to age; and recently, her 18 year old grandson to suicide.
I have been eagerly awaiting the day that she would feel better physically and her life would return to some sort of natural happy rhythm, and that we could resume our favorite gal-pal activities: movies, dinners, yakking, walking, hiking, laughing.
Pat has the capacity to make me laugh like no one else. She is a great mime and can nail friends and family in the most humorous way. My favorite is when she winds up and does her imitation of a mocking bird at 2 A.M. that sings like it has consumed too much caffeine. That mocking bird always puts me on the floor gasping for breath with tears running down my cheeks!
I have really missed Pat.
In a way it was a relief that the experts finally figured out what was wrong with her; however, Mr. C. has visited most, if not all, of the lymph nodes throughout her body. She has been in & out of the hospital with numerous invasive tests, and after the cat scan they put her right back in Eisenhower and started a very aggressive chemo treatment immediately.
The chemical cocktail for non-Hodgkin's is "CHOP". She will receive that every three weeks for 6 treatments. The day after the "CHOP" she receives a second chemo. I think of it as the kick-ass chemo: Rituxan. It is so strong that in a few cases it has killed the patient after the drip has started. Therefore, they have a chemo nurse sit and observe the patient for the first treatment of 4.5 hours. Scary.
So I can't avoid the reality that she's seriously ill. From what I've read I think it is Stage IIIA. It is my understanding that it has not metastasized to any organs. That is a good thing.
Pat is really on a roller coaster now...still reeling from the shock of the diagnosis, feeling very sick, extreme fatigue, nauseousness, feeling relatively better, and then depression that reduces her to a pool of tears. And she would be the first to tell you that she is not a "cry baby pee pee pants".
Some days when I visit her all those emotions roll by as I watch. It is very hard to watch my friend suffer. All I can do is be there for her and offer words of encouragement and support.
Watching her ride brings back painful memories of my own experience which unfortunately, Pat knows in detail.
It is human nature to fight to survive and Pat is a fighter. I hope and pray she wins this battle and that soon she can make it all a blur in her memory - that is after we do a victory lap as survivors together.
I love and miss the sunny energy of my friend and I want her back. I can't wait to hear the mockingbird!
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