Chemo is my friend?

Dear, sweet Kayla, another cancer-survivor friend, told me she felt that chemo was her friend in the battle against cancer.

Now, I'm trying as hard as I can to think about it that way, but the debate in my head rages on.

Would your friend make you throw up, be hairless, have a severely compromised immune system, make your bones and muscles ache and leave you looking like death warmed over?

But THIS friend is working hard to fix what ails you, and the adversary is so strong it will certainly KILL you if you don't have chemo.

Everyone I've ever met or ever will meet, and all those folks on TV, they will all die eventually, it's a universal truth.

Okaaaaay . . . but you know you want to meet your grandchildren . . . and you just told someone you intend to live to 100.

But I don't WANNA be so sick right now. I hate the idea of not being able to shop in a store where there are lots of people. I love to talk to people, meet new people, collect hugs from friends and family.

Review your priorities, lady. You have a bunch of kids who love you and whom you adore. You are as healthy as a horse right now and are in the best position to BEAT CANCER.

Fine, whatEVER. I am absolutely dreading all of the treatment. I wish I could buy a replacement like folks used to do with the draft in the old days.

This discussion rages on throughout the day. Not like I have any choice, of course.

Cindy comes today - YAY. She and I met in high school, we both had an interest in men's gymnastics (hers was a boyfriend, mine was a true interest in the sport), and we became so very close in those years. When she moved out of her dad's house it was MY father, the late Harry Rosenthal of blessed memory (I miss you, Daddy), who provided her with all the used furniture she needed. (He had rental property in Philly, where we lived, and folks often left stuff behind.) I don't even remember that, but she does. I was the only attendant at her wedding to the father of her boys. We drifted apart for a number of years, still always making sure we could find each other.

When my family had to suddenly move to New Jersey for six months about 7 years ago I had the chance to drive around my old stomping grounds, and I passed her childhood home. Suddenly I wanted to see her. When I called her later that day, she said, "I've been thinking about you a lot recently." That sealed the deal. Back we went to being very close friends, even though she's there and I'm here. We talk on the phone regularly and email every day, pretty much. We usually get to see each other once or twice a year.

The thing about Cindy is that she knows my 'stuff.' And she's not afraid to say something provocative to me, because she loves me and knows I won't fire her for it. It's a very rare friendship to have, I'm incredibly blessed by it, I'm just sorry I'll miss her upcoming nuptials this spring.

And then in two weeks Sheila will be coming up from Palm Springs. No one could ask for a better sister, but we didn't grow up being very close. Just before Dad died in 1980 she had an epiphany about me and my attitudes about life . . . the door to a close relationship opened that day.

More about Sheila another day, I'm off to work, the last day for a while, wrapping things up with my gigs and then tonight will be the party! We'll start at 7:30, likely the cutting itself won't happen until a bit later, but we should be done by 9. There will be parve treats, I'm told.

Afterwards, if I've got the energy, I'll go for a walk with Cindy. Only G-d knows when I'll feel up to another walk. OH, I just realized I can walk tomorrow morning, too. Great weather for it.