Cancer Is A Thief

My stepdad passed away just the other day. I was shocked and surprised when I heard the news. I’d talked to him a week ago, and he sounded good. But I was also relieved. Relieved? Yes. He was diagnosed with cancer last year and went through some rough treatments. He lost too much weight. His blood pressure was amazingly low. Eating was a miserable experience. After the treatments stopped last fall, he was feeling better and eating better. As is the case too often, the cancer came back this April. I didn’t realize the cancer was stage 4, so he only had a short time left. The doctors told him there was no treatment, and he should get his affairs in order. I sadly assumed I had at least three or four months (maybe more) to get down to visit him. I wasn’t looking forward to the suffering he would endure toward the end. Instead, he lied down for a nap one afternoon and never woke up. This was a blessing. I watched my Mom suffer with cancer twice. I’ve seen two uncles and an aunt suffer. My stepdad didn’t linger in pain for months on end, and when he passed, family members were nearby. This gave me peace of mind twice over.

I only have one regret: I wasn’t able to visit with him one more time, and share some recent photographs of Savannah. I didn't even take the time to send the photographs to him ahead of my visit. Heck, I didn't even think to mention the photos during my last phone call with him (which I never would have known was my last call). I did have an excellent reason for not visiting my stepdad sooner: my husband was recovering from cardiac surgery and a string of cardiac difficulties from the previous two months. Leaving town was never an option until I knew my husband was on the road to improvement. Thankfully, he is doing much better.

Back to the pictures..... As a kid, my family traveled to Savannah and the beaches of Georgia for vacations. Coastal Georgia and Savannah have a magic all their own. During a trip with my stepdad as a teenager, I took several pictures of the Savannah river-front and surrounding areas. Last year, I had an opportunity to go back for the first time in over 20 years. I took lots of pictures without thinking much about it (isn't digital photography great?!). When I got home, I remembered the pictures I’d taken as a teenager. I compared the 1990s pictures with the 2014 pictures and was stunned. I’d taken some of the exact (or nearly exact) same photos. One of my favorites was a bridge. It spanned the Savannah River, and I took nearly identical pictures in 1990 and in 2014. In 1990, the new bridge was only 1/2 completed and the old bridge was still standing. In 2014, the “new” bridge was now the only bridge spanning the river. It was amazing to see how much had changed, and how many things looked much the same. But it also makes me sad that I cannot share this with my stepdad. I kick myself for not sending him the pictures sooner. Why did I wait? Because I thought I had more time.

Bridges over Savannah River (1990). The new bridge isn't finished, and the old bridge stands in its shadow.

 The "new" bridge (photo taken in 2014). Notice the ghosts of the old bridge on the river banks.

You never know how long someone has left when cancer comes to town. Sometimes the patient goes through treatment, the cancer goes into remission, and they live for years. Other times the span between diagnosis and death is mere months or even weeks. It is one disease that seems to have no real cure, and a treatment program that can be more brutal than the disease itself. If someone you love is diagnosed with cancer, try to visit them early and often. You never know when the thief will steal their last moments from you.