Kinda Wish I Lived in Colorado

For months now, I’ve had trouble connecting with my best friend due to the effects of her cancer. Sometimes when she’s actually able to answer the phone, it’s mainly to tell me she’s not really able to talk.

Her husband told me she’s been really down lately. He thought it would really do her good to talk with me. So he proposed a system. When he thinks she’s doing well and likely to manage a phone call, he’ll text me. We tried this, four days in a row. Three times, she picked up the phone and began coughing so much that she had to cut our call short. We both ended up in tears. But on the fourth day, yesterday, something clicked. We had one of our good old-fashioned gab fests! It was amazing.

She put me on speaker phone and all three of us talked for a while. She talked about how defeating it has been, to have experienced great evidence of recovery, only to have the cancer metastasize to her brain. Still, their attitudes are great, and they maintain a good sense of humor. She talked about having had pneumonia for about ten weeks straight, and she joked that I must not be praying hard enough.

“Yeah,” he said. “You gotta get on your knees more.”

We all laughed. But seriously. I assured them, prayer is the one thing I can do, and am doing. Daily.

I’ve never been a good pray-er. My Catholic upbringing means there are a few prayers that for most of my life have rolled off my tongue effortlessly … and without much thought. But aside from that, I think I was always the sort that, when I actually bothered, just kind of offered up my grocery list of worries and requests.

Things are a bit different these days. Prayer is not always a conscious effort, but sometimes simply the backdrop of all that’s going on around me. I think it’s a good thing that it doesn’t always require so much thought before it happens. Other times, it is very specific and focused. And it’s not just about asking for the things I want or think I need. I try to remember to first express gratefulness.

My mom and I actually had a conversation tonight concerning what the Catholics believe about praying to the saints. Apparently it’s acceptable. Mom mentioned there’s a patron saint of cancer. I looked it up. St. Peregrine. He’s going to be hearing from me from now on.

I wondered if half the battle of receiving what we ask … might sometimes just be a matter of asking. I’m going to keep asking.

Also … I’m researching Cannabis Oil and dosage recommendations. So there’s that. I really wish I lived somewhere this was easily accessible and where I could talk to an expert. This is my best friend we’re talking about. I’m going to do whatever it takes to help her fight this.


6 thoughts on “Kinda Wish I Lived in Colorado

  1. I’m so glad you had a chance to talk with your friend. I can’t even imagine having to go through what they are. Not sure I could be as strong as they seem to be.
    Been thinking a lot about you lately. Keep your spirits high. You’re doing a lot of good for others – your mom and your friend, especially. And if you need to go to Colorado to do some research, I’ll tag along with you. I got things I wanna do there too. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That old saying, “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” gets overused, but I think it’s really playing out with you lately. With all you’ve got going on, you seem to demonstrate such growth and strength with each new blog post!

    And damn straight you could come see me in Colorado! Admittedly, I don’t (yet) know much about cannabis oil other than the positive stories I’ve read, but I know where to get the stuff. Pot isn’t just for potheads!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So sad that things have taken this turn, but positive attitudes go a long way when fighting cancer. I think I know who this friend is, so will be saying a few words for her.


  4. I do hope your friend can overcome cancer. The illness make the body weak, and many times the person can lose self confidence, making it a lot worse.
    Make her happy and encourage her. Lift her up at times like this.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s