Two weeks ago driving home I saw a friend's name calling, and picked it up a couple blocks from home.  My good buddy Scott said "hello" on the other end and we exchange formalities.

I ask what's up... "you need to change our business arrangement" he says.  I ask why... "I have cancer and it's terminal."





I won't speak to the discussion from that point since it's personal and painful and nuanced and too soon. 

It's all over, he's been battling for a year, and it's in his brain as well.  Dear God/ fuck.

Went to visit at his place last weekend and I'm not pulling punches at the door telling him he looks like shit.  He does.  Never ever said a word untrue to him and this is true.

Inside we break out three six packs that I brought... one cold and ready, one warm but ready, and one bottled that afternoon.  I told him he needed to put a note on the "not ready" to save for Christmas. 

He is still Scott, but he can't remember anything.

He's wasted to nothing and he is resigned. 

I guess there's a lesson here... maybe it is better to die unexpectedly.  I don't know.  His Mary is a trouper near as I can tell.  I'm sure she's had the very worst of it.  They've lived in their house for 28 years, and were 25 when they bought it.  He's been sick for a year.  It hurts the hell out of me to see my friend like this, but I can't imagine the way it hurts her.

Pray for a miracle.

Posted by: the botnet at 10:18 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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