Perspective

There's nothing like death to help a person gain a little perspective on... well, life.

My sister-in-law, Ana, went to business school in PA, where she met Heather. Ana and Heather became quick friends. That friendship lasted through business school, and outlasted distances ranging from a few blocks when they both lived in NYC, a few hundred miles when Ana was in Virginia, and a few thousand miles when Ana was in Ghana. They've been best friends for around 15 years, I think.

In the early fall of 2007, Heather felt a small lump in her breast. In October 2007, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a double mastectomy. She endured two rounds of chemotherapy - the first she got through with only a few side effects... the second, however, was a different "cocktail" and made her very, very ill. She said (through Ana) that she didn't feel like herself. She decided to pursue routes towards a cure other than traditional medicine, for her own peace of mind.

She found the most comfort in accupuncture. After a while, she was feeling okay. After a period of "okayness," her doctors discovered that her cancer had returned, but was attacking her liver instead. And it just so happens that her type of liver cancer would best be treated with the chemo cocktail that had made her so sick in her earlier trial. Again, she decided to go the naturopathic route.

Ana's been in the U.S. since September, in preparation for her 2nd baby's arrival (he was born in October). Since then, she's been visiting Heather regularly, and thus I've been getting reports on Heather's condition. She deteriorated pretty quickly over the past 6 months. Ana's reports got more and more gloomy - Heather could barely get out of bed because she was so weak. She was in so much pain. She was unable to play even the simplest games with her two daughters.

Last Friday Ana sent an email saying that Heather seemed "so close to death it's scary." On Monday, Heather died.

*Deep breath*

Tonight, after I put the boys to bed I came downstairs eager to pour myself a glass of wine and pout about how everything had gone wrong with the boys' bath tonight - I'd decided to bathe them in the big tub in my bathroom because it was getting near impossible for me to bathe them together in their little bathtub - they push each other, try to walk by each other and regularly slip and fall, splash water everywhere. The experience in my tub tonight was even worse - the bottom is extremely slippery because, well, let's face it - the whirlpool tub is meant to be sat upon, not walked on. As soon as I put Logan in he slipped and fell flat on his back. It was difficult for me to get him out because it's a pretty deep tub with a very shallow "landing" on which to sit. The water was about 4" deep and Logan was all the way on the other side of the tub from where I was so I was terrified he'd drown. I somehow scooped him up and we went to the boys' bathroom to get the non-skid, non-slip bathtub liner from their tub. When I got back, I had the pleasure of seeing Ben, precious boy that he is, tipping the bottle of shampoo upside down and pouring the contents onto the tile surrounding the tub. It was all over the tile, his hands, and his shirt. I put the tub liner in the tub, put Logan in the tub, took the shampoo bottle away from Ben (he screamed), insisted that he stop smearing the puddle of shampoo all over the tile (he screamed again), got him undressed and into the tub. They were happy for a few minutes. I realized I'd forgotten the big red Solo cups we use to wet and rinse shampoo out of their hair in their bathroom. I grabbed a few paper Dixie cups from the vanity to do the job (I don't know what I was thinking). When I got up to get a towel to wipe up the shampoo, those little buzzards (aren't they the birds that dive onto carcasses to get their claws on them as soon as they're abandoned? Carrion?) grabbed the Dixie cups, filled them with water, and poured the water out of the tub. At one point Logan realized it was super fun to put the cup right up to the faucet's running water - that way, a whole stream of water flew out of the tub.

I was frustrated.

Before pouring myself that glass of wine, I stopped in the office to have a glance at Facebook. I scrolled down my home page and noticed that Heather's husband had posted a picture of Heather, and many of his friends had left messages of condolence.

I instantly felt guilty and selfish for having gotten *so* frustrated over something so trivial... and that should probably have just been funny. How could I have been feeling mad, sad, frustrated, upset...? At least I am healthy and alive. I get to re-cover Ben and Logan with their blankets tonight when I check on them before I go to bed. I get to snuggle in bed with my husband, who is also healthy and alive. I should be thankful that I get to experience bathtime with my kids every (other) night.

Heather's husband is a widow... and he's not even 40. Heather's daughters, now ages 5 and almost 3, will have to say in the future, "My mom died when I was a little girl." I get a pit in my stomach when I wonder to myself if they're asking for their mommy.

*Deep breath*

So here it is... perspective. Tomorrow, when I feel myself getting frustrated, overwhelmed, stressed out, angry... I will think about this wonderful family who is having a tragic experience. I will take a deep breath. And smile. Because I get to be with my kids and my husband.