Life is Unfair--Not Just a Cliche

"That sucks." Two words that I do not utter often seemed to capture the sentiment I felt when my mother called to tell me that Uncle Ed's neck and throat cancer which had touched down to his ankle was now in his lungs and liver. "That sucks."

For just about a year now, my Uncle Ed and his wife Kathleen have been giving their all to get the best of this insane disease. Radiation, chemotherapy, tracheotomy, feeding tube, doctors, tests, labs, waiting, updates, tests, updates, more waiting and doctors---and hope. Lots and lots of hope. Never giving up on hope in fact. Uncle Ed enduring the disease, Kathleen attached to his hip enduring the disease as a loving caregiver does.

Hope of cure. Hope of getting the tubes out to enjoy a meal in the traditional sense of eating. Hope of going back to church and not coughing too much. Hope of driving back to Florida to relax in a second home honestly earned. Hope of life back to normal.

So how is it that two people who have done everything, every little thing, that has been asked of them, who have shown us nothing but strength and courage and love, who despite such a negative diagnosis have been eternally positive, how is it that they get dealt this crappy hand?

Life is unfair.

Not always is it unfair but with a round like this it is so difficult to comprehend. I am one to take what comes, generally operating without a Plan B. It's natural for me to see the fullness of the glass despite it being only half full. For me, maybe the reason isn't immediately apparent, but I always trust the reason. Somewhere in there is something I am supposed to learn, so maybe I'm down for a day but I find the diamond and move on.

I've got to be honest, this one isn't so.

To all of you who have seen this reckless dealer before, wow. The impact is far and wide. It's not just my glass, but it's a china cabinet full of crystal, all different shapes and sizes, some easier to see into than others, some with a lid making the task more clumsy.

Ugh. That sucks. Life is unfair.

But there was comfort. Larry knew what my mother had told me before I hung up the telephone. His energy soothed me. We sat on the garden patio surrounded by trees and plants he himself planted many years ago, watching the tens of, twenties of, maybe a hundred birds dip down onto the feeder and the agave leaves and the geranium to feast on a western bird seed mixture. They sang to me. I am certain. They multiplied in number and the song got stronger. I am certain. They looked right at me with a cocked head of understanding. I am certain.

My Uncled Ed has a heinous disease. He fights it like there is no tomorrow. In that there is a lesson. I am certain.