Overcast

Overcast

It's been raining like crazy the past few days.

It's been a hellacious past couple weeks for me at work, and my attitude really stinks right now.

Carol Braunshausen passed away last week. She was 51. Breast cancer claimed her life. I've known her husband Kevin for a few short years. I had dinner with them when I was visiting San Francisco exactly two years ago. At that point she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was in the beginnings of staging and treatment. We talked a bit about all the rigamarole she had to go to with the oncologists and radiologists, and some of the things that I went through when I was treated for Hodgkins. I remember her being aggravated by some of the cancer support groups she had contacted, where various survivors would go on and on about the gory details of their treatments and the ensuing side effects, and how she just really didn't want to hear that right then. I remember at the instant she said that, how I felt suddenly self-conscious that I might've just done the same thing to her moments earlier with my stories. When you're a cancer survivor, I guess it's kind of easy to be glib about what happened to you, like Hooper, Quint and Brody getting wasted after a harrowing day of shark hunting and propping their legs up on the table to show off their scars. Somebody who is about to embark on such a dreadful battle, and have their very life hanging in the balance obviously isn't going to want to hear war stories and cavalier advice. And it's really easy to slip into that when you're a survivor who is all pumped up from living through your own battle.

In the two years since then, Kevin posted updates as to how her treatment and prognosis were going. From the very outset, she was pummelled with debilitating side effects, complications and setbacks. But I rooted for her, knowing she would be a survivor. Breast cancer has survivors. And you believe that the people you know will be those survivors. And she fought on. The things she went through were far worse than what I had to endure. I can imagine...but I can't imagine. But I still knew she would pull through.

Then the cancer metastasized.

And the treatments got worse. And she continued to fight. Jeez this is bringing tears to my eyes. The docs were trying all sorts of harsh but hopeful things, and I thought, one of these has got to work. But then the cancer finally made its way to her brain. It was everywhere. The radiologist made one last-ditch effort to halt it, but that insidious disease wouldn't let go. So Carol and Kevin had to finally let go instead. Her life was miserable and there was no holding this thing back. She died last Tuesday, September 3rd. I can't possibly imagine what Kevin was feeling through all this, and how he is able to deal with things now. It just tears me apart. I was lucky. Carol was not. Breast cancer is a horrible, treacherous thing. There's nothing fair about any of it.

A year ago today, over 3000 people were killed in horribly violent spurts over the course of a couple hours. Among those were fourteen people with whom I share my faith. It's a simple fact that we feel loss more strongly for those with whom we share blood, a belief, a cause or a friendship. But the families of each of those thousands of people have a heartrending story and a strong legacy of pain to cope with. There's just too much grief for me to embrace today.

I need a nap.

Jeremy