My Friend, Lisa

February 12, 2024

My friend, Lisa. Most of us born in the 50s and 60s remember the pleasant family television show, “My Friend, Flicka” about a young boy and his horse. It was charming, all-American, and never wavered far from the family principles we all adhered to in that era and many of us yearn for today. My friend, Lisa, is someone who exemplifies good principles, treating others well, being true to herself, and always striving to do her best, even when things are not going well. Things like stage four cancer. I also used the Flicka reference, because Lisa loves horses, bulldogs, the water, the outdoors, her husband, her kids, and her friends. What she doesn’t love is cancer. OK, to be honest, she pretty much hates cancer and all that it entails–the endless tests, surgery, radiation, chemotherapy, the fear, the upheaval it has placed on her family, her job and income, the uncertainty. The uncertainty must be particularly hard to take. Doctors have a unique talent for speaking in very measured tones. You often just don’t know what’s coming next. With all this to handle, Lisa is a master at simply dealing with it. I marvel at her balancing act and her carefully choreographed “dance.”

Lisa’s dance with cancer is not a new one. It began in 2012 when she was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer. No big deal, right? That was her attitude. Have a lumpectomy, chemo, radiation and move on. Or so she and her family thought. Before I tell you the next chapter of Lisa’s cancer “adventure” let me give you some back story.  She is a tall, red-haired, hardworking dynamo who’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. She’s very resourceful. In fact, she won’t pay someone to do it, if she can do it herself. She’s not cheap, she’s frugal. She loves horses, raises bulldogs, and until recently lived on a small farm with her husband and two children, who are now adults. The farm was home to the horses and dogs, as well as chickens and donkeys. While it was a lot of work, it was the life she always wanted. Lisa worked for a non-profit for many years and most recently was a successful realtor. Her husband is a liquor distributor. Life was good. Cancer, the bastard, stole all that from Lisa. This is how insidious this disease is. Not only does it rob you of your health, it ebbs away at your subsistence. It’s heartless that way. The financial ramifications are seemingly endless. To meet day-to-day expenses, as well as medical bills not covered by insurance Lisa was forced to leave her job because of the ravages of her illness. Perhaps the cruelest blow, her husband, the “healthy one” was then felled by a serious stroke. As the dance continues, where both are now not working, Lisa has since gone through all her investments, her retirement account, and her 401K. They have been forced to sell their farm and move to a small house on a river, a pleasant concession to all that they have endured. Bankruptcy is not far behind. This is what the dance with cancer does. It depletes you physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It has no soul. This dance is a cruel one with nothing but plodding, painful steps.

So, since 2012 Lisa has endured innumerable distress, pain, and worry. And through it all, she has never lost her spunk, her humor, her ability to see the good in her life. Her amazing positive energy that gives US strength, when it’s really OUR responsibility to bolster HER is something we have all learned volumes about and her capacity to give to others. We are shaking our heads at her resilience. She will post her chemo and radiation appointments on social media to let us know the latest and always does so with a humorous little quip about how she expects her day to go. She has continued to dance with cancer while learning from an eye doctor after she finished treatment for the stage 2 cancer early on that NOW she had a cancerous tumor behind her eye that had metastasized from her breast and to show what an asshole cancer is. A little later the dance continued to her bone, and that back pain she felt was more than just pain; you guessed it – more cancer. Lisa kept dancing and kept smiling. And her attitude and funny quips never wavered. I am not saying she was some saintly hero as portrayed in a Lifetime movie. She’s had her moments; still does; she’s not Mother Theresa, after all. But she epitomizes strength; always has, even before she started dancing.

Lisa was in her late 40s when she was first diagnosed. She recently celebrated her 55^th birthday and it was indeed a joyous occasion, because she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her husband has mostly recovered from his stroke with some limitations, but he is thankfully back to work. Lisa has a part-time job that is flexible enough that should she need to she can take time away. She continues to “dance” with a hateful partner, has had more incidents of cancer discovered in her spine, liver, brain, and eyes. She has had medical grade concrete poured into her spine to help stabilize her pain. She continues to receive radiation and chemo. She keeps dancing and yet the bottom line: she is stage 4. She is terminal. She is positive. She is fighting. She is a good friend. She is thoughtful. She thinks of others before herself. I have known her for close to 30 years and I consider it a gift. You’ve done enough dancing, Lisa. I think we all agree that you have earned the right to sit this one out.