The winter of your life?

Glioblastoma

Yeah, I guess your response the word is similar to mine. With that many vowels and the word “blastoma” buried in there it can’t be good. You are correct.

-2 weeks ago I ordered flowers for Daffodil Days along with a donation to have bouquets delivered to patients
-at the same time, my friend at work and his wife were facing some strange symptoms, easily confused with other not so grave thins
-they left for a vacation that they never took, returning the next day
-1 week ago was Brain Awareness Week
-At the same time, my friend and his wife received her diagnosis
-today I had a very long talk with him about his family, how he and his wife are doing also and the prognosis.
-right afterward, the daffodils arrived, in honor of the American Cancer Society annual fundraiser

Those flowers adorn my desk now and will until they die.

To anyone who thinks the world is not a ‘small place’, I disagree. I am constantly amazed in all the ways every year that lives intertwine, that strangers meet, that people separated by one to two degrees of freedom wind up overlapping again and again only to recognize one day their connection. How deep do I think into this? Normally not very deep, but every so often the ironies and coincidences of life really set in.

Those flowers on my desk will be constant reminder of the ‘degrees of freedom’ that entwine so many lives. They represent my friend, his wife, all of their family and friends now touched by Glioblastoma. They represent for me a reminder that life is fragile, that the little things, like blossoms in the spring really do matter.

Each spring marks a rebirth of life, longer days, warmer weather, buds on flowers and trees, this particular spring also represents a life changing experience for my friend and all of his family.

Their outcome is not likely to be positive, it never is when you add the term “grade IV” onto the end of a diagnosis, but I have hope for them, hope for a cure, hope for peace, hope for extra time, no matter how short or long. Lastly, I have hope that they find a way to work through the coming weeks and months as a family, intertwining as much life as possible between them.

As March passes and spring enters this year, I will think of them as I view the buds along the highway, breaking through the cold hard earth, representing life in the grayness at the end of winter, risking the frost to emerge into sunlight, bringing forth life. This is one of my favorite times of the year, as fragile as it can be, it brings hope and joy during the cold and dark days at the close of winter. There is a reason the phrase goes “hope springs eternal”, I’ve always thought of it as a play on words regarding the transition from winter to spring.

This diagnosis may have been the winter of her life, but the time she has left is her spring and theirs too. May they see the buds through the snow and be able to enjoy them.