Wish You Were Here
“I've run into some old friends already, and they've all said, "It's great to see you here." Of course, that sentence can be read in a couple of different ways, and they mean them all.”
This is probably going to sound a little silly, but I feel guilty being here. I love Hawaii; it's probably my favorite place on earth. The ocean speaks, and soothes, in a way that nothing else can. I know how lucky I truly am. Not just to be here in a beautiful spot, but just to be here at all.
But as I sit here writing, it's hard for me to stop thinking about all of you who are having a tough day, sitting in the chemo room, the radiation room or just at home, which, in spite of the familiar comforts, can seem so lonely sometimes. I know what you are all going through. And yet I'm not going through it, at least for now, and that feels strange to me. I feel like I have stepped at least partway out of Cancer World.
Of course, it's always on my mind. I've run into some old friends already, and they've all said, "It's great to see you here." Of course, that sentence can be read in a couple of different ways, and they mean them all. So what am I feeling? Survivor's guilt? That's part of it, certainly.
I guess I wish that all of you could sit here with me, could feel the peace I feel right now. I wish you could hear the steady rumble of the waves, drowning out the steady drip of the chemo machines. That the only radiation bombarding your body came from the sun. And that instead of loneliness, you felt relaxation.
Maybe all I should say is that old reliable line that goes on almost every postcard. Having a great time. Wish you were here.
6:22 AM ET | 05-10-2007 | permalink

