|
he four of us met as part of a larger group of Cancer survivors
at the New York offices of Cancer Care. After eight or nine
weekly sessions which were led by a social worker employed
by the agency, we had decided to continue getting together
monthly in an informal mutually-supportive structure. Our
group consisted of myself, Lewis, Ron and Glenna.
We had explored our feelings of anger, fear, resentment and their effects on us and those around us, job problems, care decisions, death and the fear of becoming incapacitated and unable to make our own choices.
Test results, treatment modes, relationships with family loved ones, significant others, vacation plans and experiences, decision making, inability to make decisions, and the effects we were having on those around us sere topics that were re-hashed and re-hashed in a small hash-slinging joint that passed for a coffee shop. One of us was sure to be going through some crisis either in our illness or family or treatment plan. These became almost social gatherings (really more like bitching sessions) as we slowly gained each other's trust and became good friends and confidants. About a year went by.
Glenna seemed the frailest of the group, having had extensive chemotherapy on more than one occasion, and also six or seven operations over the past several years. She has lost most of her hair and had finally taken to wearing a wig which we all made a big fuss over when we saw it for the first time. We reassured her that it looked great and encouraged and kidded her about her new glamorous persona. While Lewis, Ron and myself generally ate a light supper, Glenna could barely eat the small amounts of food she ordered. She would stop eating often to overcome her nausea, one of her major symptoms.
At one meeting last April, Glenna announced she was leaving New York and going to rejoin her family in Utah. She would first make a trip to Sweden to visit some friends and then go directly back to her roots in the Wild West. We were saddened to hear of her departure plans but glad and supportive of her decision. I think we all knew why she made it.
We planned a farewell dinner in a local restaurant, up the block from our usual hangout. The place was warm and cozy, the menu to our liking. I brought my camera as did Glenna and we enjoyed a warm if not slightly subdued evening. Actually, we met once more in our regular meeting spot just before Glenna's departure. More picture taking, some tears, hugs and kisses. I embraced her and promised we would write. She took all our addresses and said she would keep in touch.
Our group, now just three of us, continued to meet monthly. Towards the end of July we wondered why we had not heard from Glenna. I wrote her a note on behalf of all of us filling her in on our meetings, asking her about her trip, how she was doing and briefly relating similar information about myself, Ron and Lewis. I received no response. When I got back from my vacation in late August, I wrote again. Again no answer.
By this time all three of us were concerned. We could not understand why we hadn't heard some word. I called the phone number I obtained from Information. An answering machine, not Glenna's voice gave the usual instructions. I explained who I was, where I was calling from and asked that either Glenna or someone in her family call me. I left a phone number in the message. No call came.
The topic came up in our meetings and though none of us would say it, we all feared the worst. The worst came by mail in early December. A note arrived addressed to all three of us. It was from Glenna's sister. She had had a wonderful trip to Sweden, but almost immediately upon her return to Utah, had taken ill. She died July 23. A memorial service was held on July 25. Her sister told us she had received our notes and they were important to her. She thanked us for all the help and support we had given Glenna.
I sat on the bed and sobbed for what seemed like an eternity. The sense of loss coupled with the grief and anger blew my insides in and then out. I felt like a runaway train, out of control. I called Lewis and Ron to tell them the news. I did not want to, but know I had to. I mailed them each a photo that Glenna's sister had sent together with the program from the memorial held. A picture of the four of us is on my desk at the office and one sits on a bookshelf in my home. I'm glad we became friends, but our closeness made her death almost unbearable. She was one of the bravest people I ever knew. I will not forget her ...
|
