What if an Illness Stole Something Precious From You? Coco's Journey; Chapter 23

by Larry Puls @larrypulsauthor

Ovarian Cancer, Coco's Journey, Suffering

Coco rang the doorbell. Questions flashed through her mind. Three weeks had passed since she happened upon Marcia at Kiawah—and now she was just outside her house. Hearing the door unlock, she could only imagine what her friend’s weakness and frailty might look like today--compared to three weeks ago. 

The door eased open and there was that sweet smile--yet unexpectedly weak. Her friend was on her feet but gripping the door handle firmly--almost searching for balance. The temples of her head were more sunken than before. This troubling visual portrait had more detail than a thousand words ever could. In the three seconds that elapsed from seeing Marcia to now, Coco reached conclusions—and those made sadness sweep through her. So this is what the end of life looks like from cancer. She felt the moisture building in her eyes.

“Marcia it is good to see you again,” before hesitating. What do I say next? She didn’t know. She didn't want to ask how she was doing--the answer stood in front of her. So searching for verbal direction, she opted for silence--and a short hug.

Their exchange started slowly. Discussions about the beach, the weather, families. All with little depth. But finishing the introductory comments, Marcia chimed in and changed directions to inquire how Coco was doing. She wanted to know about her life off of chemo, and about how her strength and neuropathy were doing. But Coco wanted to know something different--she wanted the update on Marcia's situation.

So she cut Marcia off gently. "Enough about me. I want to know how you are doing since I saw you three weeks ago?"

Without expression, Marcia spoke, “I would like to say fine. And in some ways, I am doing fine. I don’t have any pain and I am still able to care for myself. Though poor Jack," shaking her head, "has to do so much for me every day. It’s wearing him out. He has cut his work hours down a bunch to be here with me everyday… In fact, he is out right now doing the grocery shopping." then she stopped and smiled. "But of course, the scary thing is what will he bring back?” Chuckling, she had to stop and catch her breath.

“You don’t look like you are eating much. How’s your appetite?”

“Not good… I'm not eating much. The doctor says I cannot eat what I want to any more. I have to have mostly liquids and blended food, because any more than that and I get queasy,” and then her head went towards her lap. “and it won’t stay down… And that is hard for me to not get to eat what I want. And food for me,” she looking back up, “represents so much of what I hold dear in life.”

“Like what?”

“Food represents celebration to me. The table over there,” pointing over at her dining room, “represents my family and friends. It symbolizes communion, oneness, honesty, laughter, life. Everything I hold dear in life.” And then she wiped her right eye. “And I miss that. I can no longer sit around the table anymore and savor the sweet aromas of food. If I do, I get sad… And I get sick… That table symbolizes my life and my family… And that is one big struggle…” Then she stopped. “I'm sorry to lay that on you.”

“Don't say that. Thank you for sharing your soul.”

“I shouldn’t wear my difficulties on my sleeve like that. Please accept my apology.”

“I won't. I am honored that you would open up to me and let me share in your moment of suffering. Thank you for doing that.” And with that Coco went over and hugged Marcia, who began weeping on her shoulder. Perhaps at that moment silence was the best conversation.

What if an Illness Stole something Precious From You? Larry Puls; (Click to Tweet)

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Coco's Journey