I can’t speak it, explain it, or talk about it. I can write it, describe it, convey the meaning through words, but when it comes to talking, I lack the ability to do it.
Progressively, in many instances, I’m horrible when it comes to telling you how I feel. I can easily tell you that I love you, tell you how much I like you, show my appreciation, but I can’t express my gratitude. Other than words, though that can be difficult at times, I can’t tell you how much you mean to me. I’m not sure if I could tell my mom how heartbroken & devastated I’m going to feel when she passes. I get choked up every. single.time I ever ponder the thought of her nonexistence on this earth. I cry like a baby when I imagine my life without my parents or anyone close to me. Therefore, I have difficultly getting close to anyone. As everyone knows, anyone can die at any moment. Sitting here, typing this entry, I could drop dead. The uncertainty is what gets me. Not knowing when it’s going to happen, literally kills me. No pun intended.
Over the weekend, I saw this movie, 50/50. It’s about this man who is diagnosed with cancer. The viewers watch as he becomes weaker and weaker until he can no longer attend work. Throughout the movie, there is comedy, but at the same time, sadness. His girlfriend cheats on him because she can no longer handle his condition. His whole world is turned around when he’s told those three words, “You have cancer.”
Now, watching it makes me think of the current theme of this entry: Death.
One of my favorite scenes in the movie is when he’s sitting there talking to his therapist about his cancer. She tells him everything is going to be alright. The question is, how do you know that? You’re trying to be optimist, but no one is being real. Not one person tells him the possibility that he could die. He could. He knows he has a 50% chance of survival, but does everyone else? Everyone thinks he’ll be fine. That’s the thing about the situation. No one truly knows what is going to happen to him. If it sounds interesting, I won’t ruin it for you. But, just ponder that for a moment. If you have a loved one with cancer, as hard as it is, there is a possibility that he or she won’t win the battle. It’s a bitch of a battle.
In connection with this, the other day, I saw one of my old co-workers at the train station. We talked a decent amount when we worked together. He’s in his 60s, with a cigarette in hand to greet me with, “Hello, Hope Kumor.” Shocked & caught off guard, I said hello. One of the first words that came out of his mouth was “I have cancer.” Bingo. There it was. Lying right there. Those three words were uttered out of someone’s mouth that I knew personally. Immediately I said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
My mom’s grandma & mother both died of cancer, but I didn’t know neither of them. In fact, before the movie, I didn’t know much about it. Then, as I watched that movie & witnessed firsthand, my old co-worker, I understood.
He asked if he could sit with me on the train. I responded with, “Sure.” What was I going to say? No? I had to say yes. I didn’t mind in the least bit.
During the train ride, I witnessed him grab his chest a number of times, have problems swallowing his saliva & breathe in an abnormal manner. When this occurred, I felt helpless & awkward. What could I do to help him? I’m not good with that type of stuff. I’m not the best at comforting or helping someone through a tough time. I’m weird & awkward. Generally, don’t call on me for that type of stuff. I’m not saying I won’t help you, I’m saying I might be the last person who can help you. Of course I’m willing to help in any way I can, just not the comforting & nurturing way.
Like I said before, I’m not good at expressing myself. It’s hard for me to ask, “Are you okay?” Instead, at times, I make a smart ass remark about how you are okay. This is in some occurrences. I don’t want to come off as an uncaring bitch who makes rude remarks when someone needs me. I’m just saying that to make it less awkward, for myself, I may assume you don’t need me.
So, during the ride, we spoke about my Journalism path, how I’m graduating in December, how many publications I’ve written for, about the internship class I’m taking in the spring to temporary save me from the real world. Also, I wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable talking about his cancer when it became his turn to talk. I asked a few questions about it, but I left it up to him to tell me the facts. I’m not sure what to do in those instances. Ask, or not ask? He was always nice, but a little creepy. However, not this time. The pain & agony in his eyes told me he wasn’t creepy like before. Instead, in those eyes, there was fatigue & desperation for getting better. And, I want him to fight this, concur & win. I want that so badly for him, but I’m not the one who it’s up to. I can wish, dream & pray as much as I want, but there’s nothing too big that I can do. It pains me to watch & see that type of stuff. I can’t handle it. I’m not strong enough. I’m a weak bitch when it comes to that. That’s the type of bitch I am, a weak one.
He’s also had 4 heart attacks & his Facebook friends have been sending him encouraging comments. He’s even gotten $1,100 in the mail! Then, the surprise that people can be helpful & nice came & shocked me. Generally, in this world, there are many rude people. All they care about is themselves. But, in this situation, they cared about him. Throughout his cancer, he remains positive & humorous. He’s funny & interesting.
As we approached his stop, he told me that he can get me in contact with someone about my career path. Maybe this man he spoke of can help me? He told me to friend him on Facebook & he would pull some strings & talk to the guy. He said he was so proud of me. He just kept emphasizing that.
The last words he said to me were, Take care, sweetheart. I couldn’t help but think, “Is that the last time I’ll ever see him?” The thoughts began to form inside my mind. My deep thoughts. My depressing thoughts. My concerning thoughts. I couldn’t stop. I started to think, think and think.
How horrid, grotesque, gruesome, morbid, disturbing,hard, disgusting, gross & unfathomable.
I felt so depressed the whole rest of the day. Was I dreaming? Did he really tell me he has cancer that morning? Maybe I was making it up. Honestly, it felt surreal. But, reality kicked in & on the train ride home, I felt like crying. There were multiple times when tears formed in my eyes. I couldn’t hold them back. but I fought them hard.
But, I just want to know, what the fuck you do when someone close to you dies? What do you do afterward? Do you celebrate? Do you smile? Do you cry? Do you become depressed? Do you become isolated?
Is that the last time I’ll see him? Will he get better? Will he survive?
But, mostly, I question, will he have his 2nd chance at life?
❤ Hope Kumor