Julia
Julia is my friend I met at work. Except for the fact that we both agree that she is a great Occupational Therapist, she and I have different views on education, politics and religion. We just don't talk about those things much. We do share a kind of spiritual bond. I'm talking about this "spiritual thing" that lassos you together when you're born and raised in Texas. We understand big hair, high kicks, church, beef barbecue and self-reliance. We both know about how a wildflower's beauty can squeeze your heart and make you feel real lucky and real happy.
A month ago Julia called me at work (she's the therapist for most of my students). She called to say that she wouldn't be at work for a while because she tripped and fell flat on her face outside on her back porch. "My face looks like I've been in a car wreck", she says. I ask, what can I do? Does she need a ride to the doctor? No, her friend Diane has taken care of her. Then she says, "I left some food in the refrigerator, please eat it. OK, I say, but, can't I freeze it or bring it to you at home?" Long silence. " Well, I probably should be watching what I eat and all, and well, I really did fall and hurt myself, but I need to tell you I just learned that I have breast cancer." I don't know what I said, probably, "sorry, what can I do for you?" But inside my head is this soundtrack that starts playing- "people rarely die from this anymore… she'll have surgery, maybe chemo, etc. etc… she'll be alright…" Julia says, "Please tell so and so about this, and that I'll be out, and I don't know when I'll be back." "OK", I say. "I will."
Julia's diagnosis is inflammatory breast disease. It's rare and it's serious. I read about it on the Internet once, but I can't do that any more. She has lots of doctors who are interested in her and there's money being spent on her illness because it's so rare. So, this is good news.
Julia is a widow, and an only child. Her father died this fall and her mother is being cared for in a nursing home here. She has one child, an 18-year-old son who is out of the house and busy finding himself. Julia's best friend just retired and is ready to be there with her for all the chemo, 6 treatments over 18 weeks. She's had 2 rounds of chemo now.
I went to a birthday party for her last weekend. She got lots of hats, a fancy massage thing, a gift certificate to a restaurant that delivers and lots of warm fuzzy presents. Throughout the party she was laughing, and showing us her head. Now her head looks like one of those science projects where you learn the effects of lack of sunshine and/or water on the germination and growth of a seed. You know, a few pitiful little sprouts leaning out in search of anything to sustain them? (So much for big hair.)
I pray about Julia alot. I pray about cancer and losing and getting control of life and death. Can you do that? I mostly just ramble and count on God to sort out what I mean and what I need, but I do ask for a few specifics. When I pray for Julia, I ask God to heal her, to comfort her and hold her because she must be angry and afraid. Then I ask God to have mercy on me, too, because I'm afraid. I don't know what to say to her or what to do. I tell God that I'm waiting, and I'm listening, and I 'm wishing for wildflowers.
