The first thing Spencer Hayter plans to do when he reaches the top of Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa next month is whisper a prayer for his sister and mom, both of whom died of cancer.
(Dori O’Neal, Tri-City Herald, February 8, 2014)
I have written about Lisa before.
The news was a total shock, again. I opened the newspaper in the morning and there she was [in the obituary section]. ”No… not Lisa.” Memories flooded my mind of a hip chick I recalled from Institute (part of [LDS] Church Education Services) and church dances– someone who was a loyal friend and had concern for my first younger sister, who had taken a black sheep role in the family.
Spencer was definitely at the viewing. It’s hard to miss a tall, 6’3″ guy with brilliant red hair like his dad.
I decided after my stop at the drinking fountain that I would look at some pictures that did look like the Lisa I knew, but, they were at the entrance to the chapel and therefore the funeral. I didn’t feel comfortable lingering amongst people I didn’t know in clothes I felt were less than appropriate. So I sat in the foyer and wept, and wept, hoping no one would really notice a fat man who no one knew (or did not understand my reasons for coming) sobbing.
I know you can’t see the tears rolling down my face right now, but they are real. It was right on the heels of learning a dear friend of mine had T-cell lymphoma.
Nate was always a homebody– the article neglects to mention he is the eldest of a family of 12. The rule of thumb was always if I wanted to spend time with him, I needed to spend time with his family. But neither the in-laws nor the eldest three children remember me, although I have met them all.
I can truly say that cancer affects all of us. My paternal grandfather died of prostate cancer. I have seen for myself it isn’t pretty.
My blogger friend samara has written about cancer and her BFF: How to Beat Cancer Like it Stole Something.
I need to call my friend. I told him that Mr. T had T-cell lymphoma when I talked to him last. He asked me, “Is he still around?”
“Oh yeah,” I replied. “You can beat this, Nate.”
I did get good news about him, although my folks had to pull some strings to find out. The cancerous cells that had been found in his spinal fluid are gone now. I want to find out if it’s good, so I can say,
“You beat it, Nate.”
“Just like Mr. T.”
Don’t believe me about Mr. T and T-cell lymphoma? Check this out:
“I pity the fool who don’t fight back.” Preach it, Brother T.
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