This is the month my friend Sandy (photo right, circa 1966) and I were suppose to have our girls’ weekend away. We do it every year. We go somewhere to shop, drink wine, have our nails done and giggle – mostly giggle. After 43 years of friendship we are like one soul existing in two bodies.
We became friends in junior high school. I was the new kid ... and not catching on very fast to school life, especially our mandatory home-economics class. Sewing just wasn’t my thing. Our home-ec teacher, MISS Olson, had just announced loud enough for the entire class, that the skirt I was making was a disaster, and that I must stay after school to rip out and replace my uneven and poorly done hem. I had obviously offended the very core of her being. I meekly responded that I couldn’t stay after school because I had a student council meeting.
Her ire was uncontrollable. “You mean YOU'RE on student council!?” she bellowed. Right then I’m not sure if I actually morphed into a small puddle on the floor or if it only felt that way. I left the classroom wondering if I would ever make a friend in my new school after this stigma Miss Olson had casted on me.
As I walked down the hallway, face stung with redness, I heard a voice behind me taunting, “You mean YOU’RE on student council?!?” I turned around to see cute, blonde Sandy Gravitt – one of the popular girls. But I could tell from the look on her face that her comment wasn’t ridicule, rather an affirmation of our comradeship against the evil Miss Olson. She caught up to me and walked beside me to my next class, teasing me about my defective skirt and how that meant I must be a total failure at life. And that has been the nature of our friendship for 43 years: using sarcasm to get through the down times and giggling until the bad parts went away.
We used sarcasm to stay positive when my early marriage turned violent and the divorce became long and painful. We used sarcasm to laugh through our children’s difficulties, Sandy’s divorce, financial burdens and even the deep sadness when friends passed. Not everyone understood how we could laugh when things were dark, but Sandy was the master at seeing the irony of life and finding humor in the most trying situations. Her wit was lightening fast, sharp and funny enough to diffuse every anxious situation.
I urged her to come to work for me when her kids started school – not because she had skills that my business needed, but because I wanted her quick wit and positive energy with me every day. For twenty years the clients adored her, the suppliers couldn’t wait to call on her, and I had that wonderful sarcastic humor with me eight hours a day to remind me not to take myself too seriously when life seemed overwhelming.
Sandy left the company when her mother became ill. She wanted to spend all of her time caring for her. And even though her mother’s death was the single most devastating experience in her life, she smiled and joked with everyone who came to pay their respects in order to lessen their discomfort.
Today, Sandy called to tell me we can’t have our girls’ weekend. She just saw her doctor and was told she has cancer. It started in her colon, and doctors were able to remove the cancerous mass, but the ensuing CT scans, ultrasounds, blood tests and x-rays indicated that the cancer may have spread to her liver.
Neither of us could pretend that we don’t know what that means. We joked about the dehumanizing procedures of the tests and about the nurse’s condescending attitude. We joked about our annual girls’ weekend and how she was disrupting an important tradition. Then there was silence while we fought back tears and groped for the next wise crack that could put this, too, in perspective and make us laugh.
She still needed to go through four hours of additional tests to determine if the cancer had spread to her liver. I waited all day - crying, philosophizing, praying, crying. There wasn’t a joke for this one. I could lose the best friend I ever had.
Near the end of the day Sandy called back - the cancer had not spread. The doctor said this cancer responded well to treatment, and with chemotherapy and radiation she should be fine.
The sensation of a weight being lifted from my body was more than an emotional sensation. It was physical. I could suddenly stand up straight. The pain was gone from my shoulders, and my headache began to go away. I have my friend back, and I can laugh again.
Who has info on training on the Ionithermie machines? I had a wonderful experience with the therapy. Where do you buy the equipment & get the training?
Posted by: Judy Hosler | March 25, 2006 at 09:38 AM