A friend of mine died over the weekend. She happened to be my boss. After a seven year fight with terminal liver cancer, she finally gave out.
Yes, seven years.
Terminal.
Fucking.
Liver cancer.
I didn't have to imagine it. I watched it. Watched her.
She'd come in, trying to keep the brave face on, and she was just wracked in agony. We'd all watch her, hoping she was going to be okay. And she'd smile at us, walk up to our stations, and ask us how our days were going. She'd sit there, clearly trying to not cry out in pain, so she'd just focus on us talking.
So we'd talk.
And talk.
And after a few minutes, she'd go back to her office, and we'd go back to our work. But I would keep a weather eye out. We all did. Not that it did any good. She hid a good amount from us. We'd find out later about yet another fainting spell and yell at her for hiding it, because we were wondering! We wanted to know! She'd nod, tell us she would the next time (she never did), and we would move on with our lives.
This last Friday we were told she was in the ICU. And had been. The doctors gave her two days. I got up, told our shift lead I was going to see her, and left. Nobody stopped me. I drove over to the hospital. I was prepared for it to be bad. I thought I was ready.
God, I was so wrong.
She was barely there. And, for the first time in my life, I understood why people pushed for euthanasia. I felt like I was watching something I shouldn't. I had no right to see her like this. She was fighting for her life, and I was just standing there like an idiot trying to tell her...
What would I tell her?
I was told she could hear me.
It didn't look like it, but so what? Who cares what I see? Maybe she could!
So I opened my mouth and tried to say hi. That didn't come out. Seemed so shallow. Stupid. I just stood there, looking at her and not knowing what to say.
"Hi. I told Matt you were here. He's coming too. I think others are coming as well. He told them, because he's Matt. I told him, because I'm me." Good God this was sounding stupid, what do you tell someone??? "Um, I'm going to try and come back later with Maria and the kids. They should meet you. We did always want you two to meet." Great, more stupidity. I felt like a total moron. I had nothing to give her! Why didn't I have anything? She was lying there and fighting for her life and that was all I had???
"Um. I'll be back later," I said, lamely. "Hang in there. I'll try and get Maria to you."
I didn't. Couldn't. The kids were having a hard time, so Maria told me to go back. And I did. I walked in, and she looked... well the word isn't better, but it's a comparative word that means improved, so I guess it'll work. "I'm sorry. Stuff's crazy at home. I couldn't bring Maria. You would have liked her. She's nicer than me. But, you already knew that." I was trying to tell her something and suddenly I didn't have the fucking courage. I started kicking myself. I needed to say it! Who knew when I'd be able to say it?
I held up my hand. "I've held five jobs in my whole life. Five. I'm thirty-seven, and have only had five jobs. If you hadn't have given me this one, I genuinely don't know where my family would be right now. If you hadn't of defended me from all the people I've pissed off over the years, my family would be hungry. I am not sure what you saw, but I'm glad you did. Thank you. I will try to pay it forward. I promise."
I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to go, I couldn't watch this.
I wiped my eyes and left. And turned one last time "You have my permission to kick this thing's ass. You... you got this." And with that I left.
I had no idea then. She was getting better. Her glucose levels had tripled in two hours, and that didn't mean she was good but this juggernaut of a woman had come back from worse. She might have made it, and I allowed myself to hope for it. I relaxed. This was going to be just like the other times. I tried to be certain about it. Tried.
Two days later, I was standing in liturgy when my phone began to blow up in my pocket. Which usually meant work's groupchat. And a part of me knew. Before I even pull the phone out.
I read the message.
And sat down.
And ignored the phone for the rest of liturgy.
I wasn't a large part of this person's life, but I suddenly understood what I had been doing at my station: I was waiting for her to come up, sit down, and need someone to talk to. I was never terribly good at it, but I tried. And then waited for the next opportunity to say something that didn't sound so damn stupid. Maybe next time something actually intelligible would come out. So I would wait and hope that the next time would be different. That I would finally tell her something that was worthy of her coming up to me and asking for company.
But it never happened.
And that's it.
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