I ran into an acquaintence the other day, asked them how they’ve been.
“I have a brain tumor.”
What do you say?
“Whoa,” I fumbled, “Are you OK – what…gee, I don’t know what to say. What….?”
They cut in (thankfully.)
“Oh, I’ll have to have surgery, it’s scheduled for the end of this month. Hopefully it’s benign.”
Good positive thinking, I thought.
“How’d you find out?”
“Well, I’d been having severe headaches…and dizzy spells. Went to the doctor, and at first he thought it was a virus, and it did go away, but the spells came back, so he sent me in for tests. That’s when I found out.”
“Oh.”
“So I’ve found a good neurosurgeoyn.”
“There are a couple of excellent ones right here,” I interjected. (I happen to know.)
“Yep,” they continued, “So I’ll be in there for a couple of days – they just have to make a small slice here (they motioned, showing me the location), and hopefully they’ll be able to get it all out.”
~~~~~~
I ran into them (I’m trying to avoid identifying this person, so please excuse the awkwardness) about 8 weeks later. They looked no worse for the wear.
“How’s it going?”
“Not bad. I’ll be starting chemo in two weeks. Should be done by beginning of the year.”
“So it was malig….?”
“Yep. But they got most of it out.”
I should mention this person has always been optimistic. I’m quite the opposite.
“Great. You look good.”
“Yep – hardly a cut they had to make.”
“No shaved head or anything?
“Nope, ” and they showed me the spot. It was barely noticeable.
~~~~~~
So I’m still somewhat freaked (and maybe that is a too-strong word) to talk to this person. I feel sorry for them, while they don’t seem to be feeling sorry for themselves. An innocent “How are you doing” turned into a major self-introspection on the meaning and value of life and what is important and what isn’t and how to handle what life throws at you with grace and patience.
But for a while now, anytime anyone asked me how I’m doing, my answer is always this: “Great.”
