Serenity

This was his last Christmas. They’ve been telling him that for years, about 7 years in fact, since his sophomore year of college. This time, though, he knows it’s true. I don’t really know what I can say to this 26 year old who I probably wouldn’t even still be in touch with if he didn’t have a brain tumor.  “Hey, how’s dying going?”

I’m trying to call him every couple of days – it’s the least I can do, he’s too far away to visit.  Some days when I call him he is in good spirits, and some days he’s really down.  And I don’t really know what I can say to this boy, this cheerful, kinda goofy Phoebe character, who has faced dozens of brain surgeries, years of chemo and illness, and who knows he will not live to see 27.  Each surgery robbed him of a little more brain function – most noticeable in his vocabulary (he often can’t recall basic words), and his speech patterns -he pauses a lot more, for longer.  This last surgery and round of chemo led to leukemia, which he is now fighting on top of everything else.  His father gives him platelets once a week or so, and the thought of that heroic, desperate act makes me cry for the parents who won’t stop trying.  I asked if his mother cooks meals for him, now that he’s living at home, and he said they usually order out because none of them have the energy.

As my friend said recently – how much more punishment can one person take?

It puts my problems into perspective.  Joe probably wouldn’t have signed up to be the guy whose untimely death brings perspective to his young friends, but that is the hand he was dealt.  If I thought to hard about the unjust nature of human life, I couldn’t get up in the morning.  I can only selfishly thank heaven that my family is healthy, my boyfriend is well, my cat is alive and frisky, my house is warm and my belly full.

I wrote this a couple of days ago.  How lucky I am that these are my problems, that this is my reality:

“I started the morning with a couple of clementines and a cup of tea. My muscles are pleasantly aching from a yoga session last night – I haven’t woken them up in a long time. My heater is toasting my toes, and NPR is murmuring soothingly over my computer speakers. I’m hoping these cozy conditions will improve my workday. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”