I was going to bitch about chemo….complain about the acid diarrhea, complain about the nausea, complain, complain, complain….
But…today I met a man on “O” radiation floor wrapped up on a stretcher…he had bare feet and a nurse found him a pair of booties. When everyone left I called out to him, “You know…everyone is going to want a pair of those”. He got up very slowly and came and sat closer to Rick and I.
We got talking and he has esophagus cancer which spread to his lungs and now into his bones. We got talking about bucket lists and his trip back to Portugal to visit family…I shared my story about Talia and Dory. He said what gets him through this with a positive attitude is his family (teen boys that have just left the home) and his friends. He has been told he has about six months left and he wondered if he would live to see his 59th birthday in November…I told him to never give up. They called me into the room and I said goodbye…all I got is his name was Terry.
On the way home, Rick and I talked and he said to me, “You were good for him”. I think it was the other way around. I don’t know my outcome. I don’t know if I will live a long life or be gone in six months. What I do have is hope.
I have a rubber stamp that says “Some people come into our lives and quietly stay. Others stay for awhile, leaving footprints in our hearts and we are never the same”. I am glad I met him and my prayers go with him and his family.
Just keep swimming.