In my last post, titled rather carelessly and certainly profanely, I was stressing about finding a new place to live. That was over a month ago. I still don’t have anyplace to move in less than 20 days. Seriously.
I did turn in an application to be a condo roommate today. I really, really hope I get it. The place isn’t perfect, of course, but then I’ve only found one place that was–except that it was way too expensive, and right off of a busy highway. Thus, not actually perfect… This condo is also off a main highway–a major highway, in fact–but I’m just too tired to care anymore. I need to move. I need to move to someplace that isn’t horribly expensive where my cats and I can live for a year at the least and then see what happens. I can deal with traffic noise, even though I am someone who enjoys having the window open at night. I also like having a fan running, so that should help provide some white noise. If all else fails, they make these nifty little things called ear plugs… 😉
In other, completely unrelated yet horrible news, I have two friends battling cancer. Stella*, who is actually the mom of a good friend of mine, has apparently just stopped all treatment and is going home until she just can’t cope anymore, when she’ll head to a hospice. It’s looking like a matter of weeks. Lenny*, a friend of mine from church, apparently has lesions on her brain, so they’re switching her chemo and doing some sort of gamma laser knifing or something next week on the lesions.
Obviously, my apartment hunting woes can’t even compare to what my friends, their parents, their children, and the rest of their families and loved one are feeling now. I’m not, in any way, equating my belly-aching to their courageous lives. I love these women; it’s making my heart hurt all the time that they’re so sick, and all I can do just doesn’t seem like enough. Cancer sucks. It sucks so much that it makes me want to become a medical researcher just to find a way to make sure this never, ever happens to anyone else. I’m really pretty good at chemistry; it would be a struggle, and I’m pretty sure it would take all of the rest of my life to even come close to making a difference. But when you think about it, what’s my one life in the balance against the lives of all the people who have died, who are dying, and who will die of cancer in the future?
Wow. That was deeply philosophical, a bit depressing…and somewhat uplifting, as well. My one life is what I have. What I can do for these women and their families may not feel like enough, but it is enough. It’s all I have. Finding my path in life as a doula has made me happy–continues to make me happy, transforming me and my life almost every day–and I know that my happiness makes them happy–even through their suffering. Loving myself and leading the life I know I’m meant to lead is a big part of what I can do for them and their families.
Suddenly my heart is a little less heavy.