When I was diagnosed with breast cancer seven and a half years ago I stared into the face of my own mortality for the first time. Up until then I, like most people, felt somewhat immortal. That was my first wake up call. But I am a survivor.
Some of us make it through to the other side. Some of us don't.
Tanya was diagnosed right about the same time as I was. She was also about eight years younger then I am, and while I was considered to be young to be diagnosed, she was younger still. Breast cancers in younger women are more aggressive. Tanya’s case it was no different.
By the time her cancer was diagnosed it had already spread to her lymph nodes. Chemo first, then surgery were her course of treatment. The first round of her battle seemed successful, but within the year, she was diagnosed with “mets”. Metastatic Cancer. The disease had spread.
Tanya fought as long and as hard as anyone I know. Perhaps because she had a young son. Perhaps that was just her personality. She was an advocate and a fund-raiser. She was as strong willed as anyone I know. She travelled to cancer clinics where they tried new treatments. Some with a measure of success, others less so. But ultimately, the cancer was winning.
Earlier this year we got the news that there was nothing left to do. It was only a matter of time.
About two weeks ago I got word that she was in Hospice. So, for the second time in my life, I went to see a dying friend, someone who I would never have known had my life not been interrupted by this disease. It’s one of the hardest the thing I've every done. Again. She was a awake and alert. She recognized me and we talked a little. She didn’t have a lot of strength. Palliative care kept her comfortable. But there wasn’t a lot more to do.
This last week I went to see her every day. Thursday she was sleeping so I didn’t stay, and another friend let me know later that day, it was probably time for only the family to visit. It wouldn’t be long now.
Tanya lost her battle with cancer last night. She fought the good fight. Her son, now 8, has turned into a bright, smart young man. I had dinner with him last week. His whole life has been his mother’s fight with cancer. He participated in her treatment. Travelled with her when he could. Understood that she would leave, and knew that she loved him. His grandparents have been helping raise him since he was a baby, and will continue to do so. His life will go on and with him Tanya’s memory, Tanya’s legacy and Tanya’s light.
I didn’t know her as well as others did. While we lived close to each other, we didn’t have a lot in common. We were friends, but we never became close. But each time I went to see her this week, she smiled and was glad to see me. When I asked her if she wanted me to come back, she said “I it love when you come. You can come any time you want.” So I did go back, again. Every day.
Tonight, I will light a candle for Tanya, as I have for the past two nights knowing that the end was near. Tonight, I light a candle for a life lost, but well lived, and a battle well fought. Tonight, I will light a candle for all those who have not survived, and for those of us who have. For we must now carry the torch she no longer can.
My thoughts go out to her son and her family in this difficult time. Peace, Tanya. May you ever dance in the light....
