For Whom Do I Grieve?

Someone I know just died of ovarian cancer. She was a couple years younger than me, and I hadn’t seen her in a few years. But of course, it hit me hard.

Debbie (I think I can use her name, because my friends know who I’m talking about) was part of a group of women who, in my head, but never out loud, I referred to as “the mean girls.” One year for some reason, I was assigned to bunk with them at folk dance camp; it was not fun. But Debbie was always nice to me. She was a fantastic dancer, and would grab my hand to drag me through Western Swing, though I was hopeless at it.

The only reason I know she died of ovarian cancer is because donations have been requested to Hopkins and my oncologist. While in some cases ignorance is bliss, I’m glad to know because I would have suspected it anyway. I have a feeling I would suspect it of any woman I know who dies, unless she was hit by a car or drowned.

I mourn for her family and her numerous friends. They will miss her terribly. But in reality, I have not seen her in years, and since I stopped going to New York for the Golden Fest, I haven’t seen her or a lot of people in quite some time.

But the news has left me with a hollow feeling. Another woman who should have had many more years. Another woman who could be me, and might be me down the road. And that’s what’s really going on, isn’t it? Someone close to my age, with the same damn disease I am trying to keep at bay. Who am I kidding? It scares the shit out of me.

And it will likely scare the shit out of me for the rest of the day. But it will keep reminding myself— I am in remission, my CA-125 is low, and I am doing everything in my power to keep it from coming back.

It’s really all I can do, except to remember all the good things about Debbie, and how much the people who loved her will miss her, and how her memory will, eventually, be a blessing.