Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Soul Sister

Georgia, I'm with You.

Yesterday I was sleeping in to fight a cold coming on and the kids were behaving in front of the TV (home a week from school) when the phone rang at 8am from Georgia. It was my soul sister on the other line calling to tell me that her husband has cancer and that it is an aggressive kind. This day took on a whole new up-side-down twist. I had encouraged these two to date 14 years ago and they quickly became an item and were married within a year. I have loved that this man makes laughter in my friend's life.

It was actually an accident that they found the cancer, but found at his wife's insistence that his stomach pains were not just an upset stomach or something to be taken lightly. By demanding action and going through a few doctors an ultrasound showed much more. It's completely OUTRAGEOUS and unexceptable if you ask me—to have to fight for proper health care and attention where serious pain is involved. It's the same thing I tell my kids. "If there is a problem, tell somebody. If they are not listening or doing anything, tell somebody else until somebody does something." I just didn't realize that this applies to going to the doctor as well.

I spent the entire day in an awkward sadness, wondering what I could do. I felt useless—thinking of how terrifying this is for them and their family to not have answers and to deal with this potential loss. I needed that 5 miler like nobody's business. When I finally got it in later that evening, I was tired, worn, feeling bla, depressed and my right hip had been aching for a week, but I ran it. I ran it like the pain could just take the edge off of their pain. I wished it would work that way—that I could endure the 26.2 as a trade. I ran with my legs of lead since this is nothing compared to what they are going thru and what distance is ahead for them. I ran choking back tears just trying to breath. I ran praying for 5 miles and giving thanks for each breath and the lives I have met and love. By the time I returned, a little of my edge was scrapped off on the road and the tears could be mistaken for glistening sweat. I had a good limp, but I still felt useless for Georgia.

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