My Turn to be the Warrior

“Hey, Chica!”

This is how my best friend and I have greeted each other for years, whether in person, or on the phone.

So many phone calls we have shared throughout the years of our friendship. In the early days, we thought of those calls as our daily dose of sanity. We started our families in the same year. It was 1989 and her oldest child arrived just three months after my firstborn. In the following years, I had two more babies. She had four more. We both spent those early years as home daycare providers. At the end of the day, it was nice to swap notes with someone who was in the same trenches.

I remember our phone calls being filled with her bubbly laugh. There’s always been a spark to her personality, and so much energy in her spirit. She’s known for her sharp and unapologetic sense of humor. I’ve always seen her as the friend who leads the charge. There’s never been something she couldn’t do. If she didn’t know how, she’d learn. She’s an amazing cook, a talented seamstress, a gifted photographer. There’s never been a home or yard improvement she’s envisioned that she couldn’t make happen. There are few people from whom she couldn’t elicit laughter. She’s always been the life of the party.

When her kids started playing baseball, softball and hockey, she became an expert on each game. She was the parent, sitting on the bench, keeping the book. When I had high school graduation parties to throw, she was the one with me in the kitchen in the days ahead, cooking and preparing homemade stuffed pasta and sauce for a crowd. Countless times, we worked together in her house or mine, painting kids’ bedrooms with the latest and greatest technique. She was my favorite shopping partner, the one who knew how to find the best stuff for the lowest prices. She was the one to yank me out of every one of my comfort zones and show me what an adventure life could be.

Always, there’s been an endless flow of words and laughter between us. If ever I’ve been down, she’s lifted me up, though not usually with a warm, fuzzy kind of support. Nope, not from my Chica. She’s always been more likely to offer a swift kick-in-the-pants kind of help. There’s no feeling sorry for yourself around this chick. She’s not having any of that. She lets you know in no uncertain terms that the only way to conquer a challenge is to stand up and face it, to fight it until you’re back on your feet again. No looking back, only forward.

Over the past few months, our conversations have slowed. There’s been a noticeable quiet, though her husband’s efforts these past few weeks have helped to connect us once again. These days, it’s her voice that’s quieter. It’s her spirit that’s weaker. And it’s me trying to learn how to be the uplifting drill sergeant in this relationship.

We always used to end our phone calls with a silly “I love ya, Man.” Now, it’s a more sincere “I love you” that we offer to one another.

She called me during my work day yesterday, which is unusual. I saw her name come up on my cell phone and I chose to answer. She needs me now more than ever. Work could wait. As I answered, I walked away from my desk to find a quieter place to talk. She said she wasn’t sure how she’d called me. She’d been waking up from a nap and didn’t mean to call, but must have pressed something on her phone and next thing she knew, she was ringing me up. I said that was okay. I said I don’t get to talk to her enough, so I’ll take her call, any time, anywhere.

Her  voice contained the weakness I’ve noticed lately, the intermittent coughing and struggle for a good breath of air. Instead of laughter on her end of the line, there were the tears which have become so frequent of late. I struggled to find the right words and did my best to stay positive.

I asked how the last couple of days have been.

“Not horrible,” she said. I found this encouraging, all things considered.

“And your cough?”

“I’ve still got it, but… I don’t know … it might be getting a little better,” she admitted. She made a dark joke about her lessening cough being either a tiny sign of improvement or an indication that she’s going down.

“You’re improving,” I said.

“Heh,” she muttered, the smallest glimpse of humor hiding behind that utterance.

“You are,” I insisted. “I believe it. I’m praying for you every day, every time you cross my mind.”

“Okay,” she agreed quietly.

I couldn’t blame her for her lack of enthusiasm. Her body and mind have been pummeled by this cancer over the past four years. At every sign of hope, a reason to despair has followed. Who could blame her for feeling so defeated, this warrior chick who has never let any situation get the best of her?  And with a physical distance separating us for nearly as long as this cancer’s been around, I haven’t been there for her like I wish I could be.

So now it’s my job to help lift her up, just as she’s done for me and others so many times. It’s my turn to be the warrior.

I feel slightly guilty for the amount of communication between her husband and me. Though it’s all for her benefit, he says she feels like everyone’s talking about her all the time. She doesn’t want to be the subject of so much pity and discussion. She just wants to feel normal. And yet here we are, talking about her “behind her back.” But he’s trying to protect her feelings and I get that, so I go with it. So far she hasn’t questioned how I manage to find her awake every time I call lately. I’m glad for it.

Anyway, she’s going to have an idea soon that her hubby and I have been in touch, and then I’ll feel better. Last night, I texted him to confirm some dates and times. One last check to make sure everything is right and it all works for them. My flight is booked and next month, I’ll be spending some in-person time with her. He’s going to text me this weekend to let me know when she seems to be doing well. And then I’m going to call and tell her to get ready. I’m coming out there to kick her butt!

St. Peregrine and Mother Teresa have become my newest friends. I’m asking God and them daily to relieve my friend of this horrible disease. If anyone reading this is the praying kind, please offer up some prayers on behalf of my friend. She needs a miracle.

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6 thoughts on “My Turn to be the Warrior

  1. Tee, I’m sooo glad you’re going out to visit your sick friend! Your presence will mean the world to her…and one day, to you, too. My late dad had cancer, so I’m speaking from experience here. Generally, what he wanted most was to be surrounded by LIFE, to hear those he loved laugh, to know we were close by. ‘Tis a hard row to hoe, but I firmly believe in the power of prayer!

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  2. I’m glad you’re going to see her. I know who you’re talking about because she’s been part of the blog for a while, and her personality always came through in those posts. I also remember the devastating day she got her first cancer diagnosis. I think your visit will really brighten her day!

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  3. I’m so glad you’re making time to go see her! It’ll be good for the both of you. I’ll continue to keep her, and her family, and you in my thoughts and prayers. Stay strong!

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  4. Oh God, my heart goes out to you and your friend. It’s probably normal to feel guilty sometimes. No matter how much we do, we always feel like there could be more. I have a best friend like yours. All I can say is, it breaks my heart thinking of what you are going through. Hugs and blessings.

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  5. She sounds like the greatest friend before. And now she needs her best friend to be with her too. This make me think of a good friend who has a terminal disease, but I am too far away to visit him frequently.

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