For those who don't know, yesterday, I celebrated being 6 years cancer free. Wow. I could take the time to talk about that experience, how it changed me. How it made me appreciate life...yeah. I could do that. And it would probably make for an inspiring read. But, that's not what I'm going to do. Because yesterday, something was brought to my attention. Something far more important, far more moving than my own story.
This is a story about a brave girl. The year is 2005. Picture this girl. 16 years old, the world at her fingers tips. Her finger tips grasping onto the last bit of hope she can muster. Her best friend is beside her asleep. Sleeping, in a hospital bed on the cancer floor of a local children's hospital. She's been asleep for hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Her best friend is dying of a disease that even the smartest and most experienced of doctors don't know how to treat. The outcome is grim. The bad days outnumber the good.
This brave girl, 16 years old...she has her own life to live. A boyfriend. A hobby. A family. All of which she has selflessly put aside. Her own life, full of air and health and dreams, that life was breathed into the life of the one who was getting ready to let go. She witnessed the bad, the ugly, and the unbearable first hand, and she did it with the strength of 1000 soldiers. Chemotherapy, surgeries, epiderals, bad news, worse news, fainting, sleeping, ICU. Anywhere the bald one was, the brave one could be found; sitting silently, waiting patiently.
16 years old...16.
People often tell me how "strong" I am. How "brave" I am. What they don't know is that if I could have had it my way...I'd have given up. I would have just as soon rolled over, closed my eyes, and willed myself to remain that way forever and ever. What they don't know is that if the brave one hadn't been by my side every time I rolled over to drift off...I wouldn't be here today.
This brave girl...she is my best friend. This story...it's hers. And it's true. She saved my life. She will never admit it, I'm not sure she even believes it to be true. That's why I'm telling it. And the part that gets me the most is that this is all I can tell. I have no recollection of those days. Just hazy snapshots and vague memories. She remembers it all. She can recite days, moments, exact times. And although I feel terrible that she had to experience it the way she did I know she doesn't care and she wouldn't take it back. And while I know I can never ever be the friend to her that she has been to me, even though I will spend the rest of my life trying...I know I don't have to. She didn't do it for any sort of recognition. She did it because she made a choice to fight for someone she loved who couldn't fight for themselves. And for that...I am eternally grateful.
Sometimes friendship means putting your life on hold. Sometimes it means that you have to give up your wants, your needs, your hopes and your dreams in order to help someone else. It's not easy. And it doesn't happen all the time. We, as a human race, are selfish. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes we have to be. We have to protect ourselves. But there may come a time when you might realize that someone else needs you more. They need you more than the air that they breathe. And when that time comes you have to make a choice. You have to decide if you can be that selfless strength and hope for someone other than you. This decision is not to be taken lightly. Because once you decide, there is no turning back. Someone's life may depend on it.
