I had some sad news this afternoon. One of my very best and oldest friends, Kaos, rang me to tell me her mother is being placed in palliative care. She was diagnosed with Leukaemia almost exactly two years ago, and has run the gamut of treatment—radium, chemo, a bone marrow transplant, and blood transfusions. Unfortunately, while each initially seemed to work, eventually the cancer won out. The latest treatment, the blood transfusions were given the thumbs down over the weekend. The doctors have suggested she may have as little as two weeks.
When I got off the phone, I cried. I cried for myself, but I also cried for Kaos. Since primary school we have been each other’s sidekicks, always there when the other called. Living in Brisbane throughout uni, there were many midnight phone calls and a lot of early morning ice-cream philosophising. When I called, she was there, and when she did, I reciprocated.
Today, I couldn’t do that. As much as I wanted to it would have been stupid to get in the car and drive the two hours simply for a twenty minute chat. And yet, it hurts me so much that I can’t. More than anything I want to be there for her when she inevitably can’t sleep. When she wakes up crying because the waves of misery hit. She has a husband. He is wonderful, and he is absolutely there for her, I have no doubt about that. But, I know sometimes you just need a best friend. And when she does, I just wish so much I could be there for her.