Depression Marathon Blog

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Diagnosed with depression 16 years ago, I lost the life I once knew, but in the process re-created a better me. I am alive and functional today because of my dog, my treatment team, my sobriety, and my willingness to re-create myself within the confines of this illness. I hate the illness, but I'm grateful for the person I've become and the opportunities I've seized because of it. I hope writing a depression blog will reduce stigma and improve the understanding and treatment of people with mental illness. All original content copyright to me: etta. Enjoy your visit!

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

What is Fair? Not Life.

A church I passed posed this question on it's sign, "What is fair?" I've been pondering that question ever since. I guess that's exactly what the church hoped would happen. What is fair? I've known since an early age that "life" was not the correct answer. Tonight, I was reminded of that with more clarity than I ever needed.
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My friend Jeannie is dying. My friend Jeannie, whom I know from the rooms of recovery, entered hospice today. My friend Jeannie was just diagnosed with inoperable, deadly, liver cancer a couple months ago. She may not make it to Christmas. My friend Jeannie is dying. Life is not fair.

My friend Jeannie is everyone's friend. She's one of those people who lights up a room. Rarely serious, she can always be counted on for a laugh. Even if the topic is dire or morose, Jeannie can find the giggle-points. Yet she is a wise, business-minded woman, too. Bold, and unconcerned with others opinions of her, she'll dance in the street or hug a perfect stranger. She'll also tell you exactly what she sees, whether you want to hear it or not. Her observations are almost always spot-on. It sounds so cliche, but of all the people on the planet, why this person? Why the woman so many of us humbly admired, asked for guidance, and looked to for perspective? Why her? And why so fast? Why so much pain? She doesn't deserve the apparently excruciating pain. Why? Why? Why?

I feel utterly and totally helpless. There is nothing I can do. This illness is taking her from us incomprehensibly swiftly. There is nothing any of us can do to stop it's malicious march. It will win. Jeannie will lose. We will all lose, and that is not fair. I want to sit with her, wrap her in my arms, and tell her how much I admire her. But I can't, and she likely has no idea. She is the picture of admirable recovery. We counted on her for that. What do you do when you can't do anything? What do I do?

My friend Jeannie is dying, and I haven't done a thing. I didn't realize how quick... I don't want to intrude. I don't feel I have the right to occupy any of her time. Family, close friends...I am not one of them. It feels selfish of me to even call. So I haven't done anything, and that feels bad, too. Bottom line--I don't want her to go. I don't want her to be in pain. I don't want her to die. But my friend Jeannie is dying, and there's not a thing I can do. I am so sorry, Jeannie. I am so, so sorry.
LIFE is not fair.

1 comment:

Michelle (The Beartwinsmom) said...

(((HUGS))) You won't be intruding. I bet she will be glad for your company. Time flies... especially when one has cancer. My grandmother was supposed to last one year after her liver cancer, but she only lived a month after her surgery to remove the tumor.

Don't feel like you're going to impose or intrude, Etta. If I know you as well as I think I do, you will probably feel even worse than you do now if you don't do anything and she dies quicker than she is expected to live. Carpe diem my friend.



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