My Friend’s Tumor Has Come Back

There’s not a lot else to say…

When I hear my friend’s tumor has come back, I brace myself and take a breath deep enough for two, wanting to pass him all the extra air I can muster — as if that would do any good — or is even possible.

When I hear my friend’s tumor has come back, I brace myself as if it were my lymphoma, not his. Yet it’s he that gets chemo, not me. And it’s he who will go through the month-long cycles where the drugs knock him within an inch of his life and it takes three-plus weeks to build himself up and back.

When I hear my friend’s tumor has come back, I brace myself for our Zoom call knowing his face is thinner, he’s lost too much weight, and yet, his long frizzy hair, twinkling eyes, and cocky smile are still there — for now.

When I hear my friend’s tumor has come back, I brace myself for the pain etched on his wife’s face, the new lines fear carved into her brow. How can I be there for them when I can only be here? I don’t know how…

When I hear my friend’s tumor has come back, I brace myself for the times when Zoom is too much. When phone calls are too much. When waiting and praying is the best I can do.

When I hear my friend’s tumor has come back, I brace myself because he knows month by month what’s likely to happen and does not want to talk about it.

When I hear my friend’s tumor has come back, I shut my mouth, close my eyes, open my heart, and double my prayers.

Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times.