Goodbye Heather

I was very saddened to check Heather Reid's blog this morning and read that she died June 1 after a long and brave fight against Hodgkins Lymphoma.

I never met Heather, so I really only knew her through her blog. But through her blog, I figured out this much. She was courageous. She was strong. She could find a way to smile and something to smile about through the worst of it. I have thought about Heather often during this last 7 months of my treatment - I have used her as my inspiration. I remember feeling pretty awful once, recovering from a bout with chemo. Just as I was feeling sorry for myself, an email arrived from Rod letting us know that Heather had just given birth to a baby girl (Kylie).

So there I was, thinking I had it tough with my chemo, and Heather, who had had chemo herself a few days earlier, goes ahead and gives birth at that same time. I can't imagine the strength that that must have required or how tough that must have been. But seeing the pictures of her with Kylie, taken shortly after, Heather was just one big smile. From that moment on, whenever I was feeling particularly bad, my mantra became, "At least I am not in labor".

Another thing I figured out about Heather is that she was an optimist. And optimism is a good thing. I'll even say its one of the most important things. It gives you the strength and the courage to fight, but more importantly, it lets you find the good things in life when life tries to fool you into thinking its not so good. Heather was an optimist, and in the end, that caught me off guard. In my mind, I had already written the end of her story. Her treatment was going to work. She was going to get better, then Heather and her husband Jim and Kylie were going to live happily ever after.

In the last post Heather wrote in her blog, at the end of May, she said she had to go back to the hospital because of a problem with her red blood cells and platelets, she wrote, "So I won't be online for the next several days but wanted to throw a quick update." I kept checking in the days and weeks after, waiting for Heather to come back and to say everything was good again. Even when her husband Jim posted an update a few weeks later saying Heather was really struggling, I still didn't get it. I didn't think (or maybe I wouldn't accept) that there was any way someone like Heather could NOT win.

I still don't get it.

This cancer business is really giving me some insight into how I deal with things. One of things I have found out about myself is that I have a real want to have things mean something. I am not a religious person, but I can't get away from this desire for meaning. I appreciated Heather's brother's blog post this morning, because it helped to see the good in something so sad.

I have been thinking about it all day, about finding the meaning in it. I don't know Heather enough at all to propose to find the meaning of her life or her death. But for my own sake I can't help but trying to find the meaning in what I do know. I keep coming back to Kylie - the little girl who got herself (with Heather's help) into this world against all odds. An image keeps replaying itself in my mind, an image of the fragile, white seed of a dandelion floating through the air and settling in the ground. I find a shadow of meaning in the image. I first "met" Heather when she was a woman with cancer who was pregnant with what she called her "miracle baby". We now know that she was dying while at the same time giving life. A flower in its last act of beauty, shedding its seed and giving life to a new flower.

It reminds me of something I read recently in a magazine. I think it was an interview with an actress. They got onto the subject of religion. The actress said that she had moved through several different religions in her life but what really floored her, was sitting on the couch with her daughter watching The Lion King. It was the Circle of Life scene. I don't usually take spiritual advice from moviestars or cartoons, but I think she is on to something. I look at Emily and Anna and I know they are the best and most meaningful thing I have ever done. If I died tomorrow, they would still be here. And I would still be here - in Anna's eyes, in Emily's toes, in their silliness, in a bunch of other ways, both good and bad (hopefully more good than bad).

I'm sure that as Kylie grows, she will discover her mother in her. She'll find she is strong, courageous, that she is optimistic, that she can find things to make herself smile even when times are tough. I'm sure that Heather's family will find her again as well, as they watch Kylie grow. A beautiful flower that reminds them so much of the one that came before.

I wish all the best for Kylie and Jim and the rest of Heather's family. I'm very sad she is gone, and I ache at the thought of the people who love her and miss her. She was an amazing person.

And while I am very saddened by Heather's death, at the same time, I won't lie. Heather's death scares me. I keep saying optimistically that the prognosis for Hodgkins Disease is very good. But very good is a relative term. In the cancer world 85% is a good number. But if there was a 15% chance you would were going to be hit by a car today, you'd be pretty nervous going outside. Heather's death reminds me of all of this. It shows me one possible future for me, and that scares me.

But right now I'll take inspiration from Heather again and I will find my optimism. I know I am going to beat this thing. And in the meantime I am going to take joy in what I have.

When I found out I had cancer, someone told Mathilde about a Lou Reed song, where he sings, "Life is good. But it's not fair".

Life is good. But it's not fair.

But it's good.