Remembering Cyndee

I found out today that a friend of mine died on Monday night from complications due to ovarian cancer. Cyndee and I originally met online, through a gynecological cancer support group called EyesonthePrize.org (we both belonged to the group's mailing list support group). In February of 2002 we had the pleasure of meeting face to face in my home at a small gathering of participants of that support list. Two other friends I met in person that day, Sue and Bonnie, have also died in the last couple years. Both of them wonderful women with their own stories. But today I want to talk about Cyndee.

When I met Cyndee she was battling recurrent ovarian cancer. She was a little shy in the group, but responded to my daughter Z. (then 4 years old) and played a game with her called "snitchie monster", a cute game that involved pretending to steal Z.'s food, that she used to play with her own (now grown) kids when they were little. While out for breakfast the following morning Cyndee told me that I was the complete opposite physically than what she had pictured in her head (funny how we have these images in our heads of people we meet online based on I'm not sure what!). She had pictured me tall and blonde (but instead I am short and brunette). I laughed over that one as I think I might be a completely different person if I were tall and blonde!

One of the difficulties of recurrent ovarian cancer is that it can often require fairly continuous treatment particularly as the cancer stops responding to one chemo and another is then tried. My sister L. (who died from breast cancer in 2003) was in a similar situation. She once told me that if she stopped chemo she would die, and in the end she had to stop chemo due to some serious physical complications and was dead within a matter of weeks. Cyndee was always very open about her decision process as to whether or not to pursue the next line of treatment. I remember at one point she was grappling about what to do next when she found out that her daughter was pregnant with her first grandchild. That gave her a reason to continue treatment, to live to see him born. Not only did she do that but she had a number of years to love and play with him. He was a huge source of happiness and light in her life.

In the end the cancer spread to her brain and she made the difficult decision not to pursue further treatment. She took the time to connect with old friends at EOTP and to say goodbye. She and I were able to tell each other what our friendship meant to each other, a special gift we don't always get to have with people. We always think there is more time, that they already know, etc., but even when we know better (as I surely do) it's still easy to put off. Or sometimes it's easier to tell some people than others.

One of the difficult things about being involved in cancer support groups is that not everyone survives. I have lost way too many friends, but that doesn't discourage me at all from continuing to meet and become close to other cancer survivors. The positives far outweigh the negatives, and honestly, even the pain and grief has it's positive points. It reminds me to be thankful for each day that I am alive and the pain and grief I feel is in direct relation to how much love and joy I experienced with that person.

Cyndee, time to rest now, time to let go and let the light and peace wash over you. I love you my friend and can "feel" your hugs.