The value of encouragement
When I first started this crazy ride, I made a friend at chemo class named Nettie. We have done a lot together – meditation class (once), wig shopping (hilarious – and we both rarely wear them), lots of lunches, support group (which I completely forgot about until now)… We have laughed way more than we’ve cried, and have become good friends. She’s in the trenches with me, and I cherish her friendship more than you could ever know.
At one point I said to her “you know, as I go through this I’m going to make it my mission to encourage as many people as I can, in whatever they are doing.” We agreed that even though we’re going through hell, that doesn’t mean we have to make other people miserable.
So I started telling my baristas what a great job they’re doing. I send random messages to my Ingress friends telling them how much they mean to me. I try really hard not to post on my bad days, because there’s nothing worse than having a bad day and then hearing about someone else’s WORSE day. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been important.
Today was Nettie’s last day of chemo. Though she has breast cancer too, she has a different kind, which means a different treatment plan than me. We started out with the same four rounds of the Red Devil, but then our cocktails changed, and for the past 12 weeks she has had to go in every week, rather than every three weeks. That actually means every Monday she went for blood work and Drs appt, Tuesday for chemo, Wednesday for acupuncture to ward off the bone pain and then started all over again the next Monday. Needless to say, it has been a long haul. On the plus side, now she’s completely done. She had her surgery before all of this, so all she has left is her exchange surgery, and that’s it for her (other than the dreaded anti-estrogen drugs we both have to take for the next five years). Then she’s off to MAUI! Jealous, yes I am…
I decided I wanted to make her final chemo session special for her, so I went and bought a bottle of wine and a balloon, and two feathery pink sequinned cowboy hats to celebrate her last day. So much fun!!! We are both pretty anti-pink, which is what made it that much more hilarious.
It cemented for me the power of encouragement. Nettie has been here to encourage me in ways that nobody else has been able to. We can say things to each other like “I’m too young to die” and “I miss my eyelashes the most” without having to expect anyone to understand, or comfort us. She understands what it means when I just don’t want another pity hug. I’m just so thankful for her, and so happy for her that she’s done.
As I lie here on the couch, looking up at up at my view of my fabulous Garry Oaks, I just realized that since I was first diagnosed, they have gone from completely bare, to buds, to beautiful green shade trees, and now, starting to turn gold…. It’s only a matter of time before I’m looking at grey skies and bare limbs again. So much has happened since January 28th. It’s been long and painful, but for some reason it’s gone by quickly. Like the leaves, some friends have disappeared altogether, some friends have shown their colours, and new, better friends have emerged. I’m so glad Nettie was one of them.
