Not quite gone yet…and still beautiful with life

Above you see what’s left of a canal that once was vibrant with life. It carried many passengers in its day, from coal territory in Pennsylvania to the waters of the Hudson River. Donkeys towed the barges that held not only coal, but other goods manufactured in towns along the way. On Sundays, people enjoyed the views taken in from the gracefully-floating barges, as tourists lined up to relax and picnic on the artificial waterway.

But as years went by, the canal’s usefulness dried up with the advent of railroads, and the water slowly slipped away. Its former banks carved a tree-lined path through the woods. Here and there are traces of the locks, along with some houses that once served as the lock keeper’s home, a few inns and shops. Still, one can appreciate its quiet beauty and imagine what life was like during its heyday.

I mention all this because I nearly lost my dear friend the other day.

Angela was doing quite well, adjusting to her chemotherapy and clinical trial drug. Her recent CT scan showed that the tumor had shrunk and nothing had spread. The medical marihuana worked to keep her nausea at bay, although she did have a few breakthrough episodes. There was every reason to hope she’d be stabilizing.

Gradually, though, her strength began to ebb. Nothing would stay down. She didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs to sleep in her bed. After she passed out while taking her dog to the veterinarian for a checkup, Angela contacted her medical team. A simple blood test revealed she had almost no red blood cells coursing through her veins. She needed an emergency transfusion or she’d die. Thankfully, it was administered in time. She’s since recovered.

Chemotherapy is more art than science. Powerful doses of poison flush through one’s body, aiming to kill fast-growing cells. Trouble is, some of those cells you need, like red blood cells. The chemo drug doesn’t make that distinction. The oncologist prescribes a massive dose to see what a patient can handle. The first few visits leave a patient nauseous, anxious, exhausted. Eventually, one’s hair parts ways with one’s head. Food doesn’t remain in one’s stomach. The body weakens, weight is lost. Yet the dose remains the same, week after week.

After a close brush with death, the oncologist decided to lower the dosage and frequency of its delivery. Now, Angela goes only once a week instead of twice. It remains to be seen if this will help. She’d give anything to keep food down, to enjoy the taste of chocolate again, or chomp on a pizza. Most food tastes like metal now.

This is a lot to handle, as you can imagine. To wrestle with the fact that you haven’t much time left, and yet you have so much to accomplish. Angela hasn’t finished carving her path through this world. That’s why she’s the guinea pig in a clinical study because there’s a chance that it might extend her life. The research could also save someone else’s. What greater gift could one give to humanity?

There’s also another reason why Angela would submit her body to near-lethal doses of poison each week. Her daughter graduates from high school next year. What parent doesn’t want to be a witness to that?

Angela cherishes every moment given to her. Warming days gives her an excuse to go outside. Sunshine soothes a weakened body, giving strength. On mild days like these, she carefully tends to her garden, pulling out weeds, smoothing the mulch into nice thick layers. Tulips and daffodils poke through the ground, cheering her with sunny blossoms. Honeysuckle vines are preparing to scent the June nighttime air. The lilacs already have.

One tree, a dogwood, struggles. It used to shade her patio. Now half of it no longer blossoms, nor unfurls its leaves. Yet the other side is in full bloom, its white flowers lined faint pink filled the branches. Where there’s life, there’s hope. After a friend removed the dead limbs, sprouts shot out from the living side, as if to prove it still has life, has much beauty and shade to offer, to please those who admire it.

Just like Angela.