I got bad news from a friend a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday, the news got worse. For allegorical purposes, I'll call him Dante.
Dante has cancer.
His cancer is potentially excisable, meaning that a couple of hours on the table might solve his problem. On the other hand, nobody knows if his cancer has metastasised, so he might need chemo and radiation and all the levels of Hell I've written about over the last 2.75 years.
Naturally, I am Dante's Virgil. I will help guide him through Purgatory and Hell.
The strange thing is the degree to which it bothers me. A friend is going to endure some of the same tortures I've inadequately described. His family will suffer the same difficulties Ed and I are surviving. He will change, his marriage will change, his family dynamic will change. Ed and I will change.
I don't consider any of this a personal burden or a duty. Friends do this kind of thing for friends. It doesn't bother me to be Virgil. It simply bothers me because it seems so unfair. Dante doesn't deserve this. His family doesn't need the life lesson.
It sucks.
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1 comment:
I know this feeling. I can get myself pretty angry if I think about how much my husband did not deserve this and what it has done and will do to our young daughter's life is downright unfair. It sucks bigtime.
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