Facing death

 I was asked to send some thoughts and sentiments for a friend who will be dying soon from cancer.

How strange. He is alive now. Can I not wait until...he's gone?

I've struggled to send anything. The thought alone of sending my sentiments about B and our friendship is morbid. I have not reconciled with the fact that he will die in the near future. I spent the last 2 hours holding back my tears. Every time I think about him and the fight he fought with cancer the last 8 years, my heart breaks again. Nothing makes it any easier. Not this shitty ass piece of shit year. Not knowing that this day would eventually come. 

I don't have the right words to say. To face death (and for me it's through a friend) in this way is strange. I've held many discussions with patients' family members about death and dying and making patients comfort care in cases where further medical treatment is futile. But this? This is cruel.

I lost a few friends during this year from cancer. A sweet, young, vibrant nurse. Died within weeks after being diagnose with stage IV ovarian cancer. She was only 25. An excellent surgeon, teacher, husband and father. Died within 2 years after being diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. He was hitting the peak of his career. A former high school teacher's wife (my brother's teacher). Died of brain cancer after being diagnosed a month prior. She recently turned 45. And now B. He's only 42. Fun, funny, sarcastic, good heart and awkward.

We were an odd pair. I met B via a classmate of mine. We had a fun night of exploring DC. B and I remained friends. Then I didn't match to residency. B somehow saw strength in me that I couldn't muster. I helped him study; he helped me pay for some of my flights to my residency interviews. B has a good heart, always had. We kept in touch over the years via text (he hates texting), emails and phone calls. When I found out about his cancer becoming stage IV, I was devastated. Seems like he did everything right. But here we are.

B is probably taking this better than the rest of us are. I'm definitely not taking it well. Eventually, I'll have to say goodbye. Eventually, things will end, and he will be laid to rest. Eventually...he won't be a phone call or text away...eventually, the goodbye will be final.

We all will face death at some point.

All I'm saying now is F--k you 2020. And death. And cancer.

I'm not ready to let B go.

Revisiting the broken pieces

 I have a friend of mine who's birthday I couldn't remember. So I texted her today asking her when it was. I remember that she had a July birthday but did not specifically remember the day. This friend, C, has been in my life since the majority of college. She was a class above me but I always looked up to her. In our catching up, I mentioned recently starting therapy. 

Then she brought up a situation that I have tried to forget/make peace with for the last 10 years. She mentioned that I should've seen a therapist after everything ended with M.

M was someone I met at a medical summer program back in 2006. Honestly, when I first met him I didn't think much just because I was in a program where I was trying to make as many connections as I could for medical school. And he was just a pretty boy. Someone when I first met him I knew he was completely out of my league: smart, physically attractive, Ivy-league trained and definitely with a girlfriend. Long story short, he approached me and we talked. Then we became friends. Over the course of that friendship, which lasted about 5 years, I fell in love with him. Mistake number one. Then everything ended. Very abruptly. At the time I was so shocked, so devastated (I had never experienced such a brokenness before), and so numb that I literally shut down completely for about 6 months. I remember that time being so separated from who I was, I just repressed everything and pretended like I was OK. Over the years following that, I stopped writing. I stop caring. I lost sight of who I was. All the insecurities I had before I met him magnified. I told myself to never love anyone like I loved him. So in a place where this young, thriving, passionate, kind, sweet, compassionate and loving girl existed, she was replaced by someone so broken that the only way to survive was to shut down.

My friend said "That experience robbed you of your joy, your light, and your confidence. It's like it almost bankrupted you of all your essence. Notice I said almost...For it was like you stopped trusting you."

And how true was she. I did stop trusting myself. I stopped listening to my inner voice or my intuition. I stopped believing in the unanswered prayers of my heart. I stopped finding the magic in the simplest things in life. I caged myself in, in hopes that I would protect myself. But instead I created by someone who was separated from everything she needed to heal. It was bad timing; between medical school and initially not matching for residency, I could not find the time to heal. So I've repressed everything for the last 10 years In addition to all the trauma I had from my childhood.

The last few days as well as my session with my therapist, I'm being told by different sources including the universe to get back in touch with me. To allow myself to feel in order to heal. And to do that I will have to surrender and I will have to be vulnerable. Two things that I don't like doing, at least not in the wrong setting.

But what does surrendering look like? What does being vulnerable look like? As I start on this journey, I'll have to most importantly give myself love and grace to get through each broken piece. Every single dark and ugly moment. I will have to take responsibility for my part in it. This is the best chance I have to heal. When I allow myself to grieve, to remember, to forgive, to be open again, and to love, with healthy boundaries. 

I am still grieving not passing boards. So. That is one thing. And to that, my friend said one last thing: "As unfortunate as the setback is, I believe that it just saved your life. Your dreams and all that you deserve will manifest itself when you heal. I wholeheartedly believe that. When you shed that layer of despair, nothing will be able to shield your inner light. But remember to give yourself grace while you're going through the process because you're going to get beat up but you'll be the better for it. Don't rush the process because a watched pot never boils."

Such wise words. I'd like to think that at the other side of all of this, I won't be a woman made up of broken pieces. I believe I will be complete, with every part of me healed and restored.