My niece called early this morning to complain about the cancer life. Actually, it's not the cancer or the chemo that's getting to her; it's the lack of independence. She's almost 32 and trying to enjoy a week out of the hospital with her two sons before the second round of chemotherapy. However, it's jarring to lose one's job, one's apartment, access to any belongings that might harbor excessive germs, and even the simple pleasures of taking the children for summer outings or going to buy one's own groceries.
I can listen, but that is most of what I can do today. I can promise a little vacation (if her platelets and white blood cells cooperate) later in the summer, and I can send money, and I can visit, but that's about all. It's a helpless feeling, knowing that I can't rescue her from any of this. Cancer is so damned personal.
NTD
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