Processing

I haven't written on this blog in a very long time. It seems I only do when I need to.
And right now I really need to.

Seven months ago I recieved a phone call from my good friend Fiona. It started out like every other time she has phoned me over the past 20 years.
Fiona: "Hey Christine it's Fiona!"
Me: "Hey! How are ya!?!"
then everything changed.
...silence...
Me: "Hello?"
Fiona (whispering): "Ya. I'm here..."
I let her compose herself and after a few seconds she told me through her tears that something is wrong with her and she thinks she has cancer or something. Once she got that first part out she was calm enough to tell me events of the past few weeks and that they had found a mass on her colon. She had a surgery scheduled.

A week later, the night she had her surgery her husband, Ian phoned me and informed that yes, it was cancer. They removed part of her colon and her right ovary. Tests would be done to determine what type of cancer it was.
That weekend she was admitted back into the hospital, fighting an internal abcess from the surgery. She was in agony. A drain was put in and she was put on antibiotics.

A week later I was at her place and she told me that her dr called her the evening before and told her that it was lymphoma. Highly treatable and curable. She was relieved and ready to get the fight on.

Over the course of her chemo we continued to have great conversations. Cried alot. Laughed alot. December...January...February...March...April...

I was at her place 5 days after her last chemo treatment. She had just taken her last steroid. We were having fun with her wig. We were looking forward. Making plans. It was an amazing day. Eva and I stayed for most of the day, having lunch and playing with the younger 2 (of her 3) kids.
A few weeks after that we were on the phone and she asked me to look for cottages online. She wanted to get the hell away and just do nothing for a month with the kids. Ditch the husbands and hang out at at cottage just us and our kids.
She was sheduled for her follow up CTscan. Her CTscan from March was clear.
No reason why this shouldn't be.

May...
But it wasn't clear. Three lesions on one breast and one lesion on the other. VERY unusual. How could anything develop while she was on chemo?
They gave her an appt for a biopsy one month from then. I told her that was unacceptable and she fought to get a new appt. Success. One week later.

One week after the biopsy another phone call that started in silence.
Leukemia. AML. She would be admitted into Henderson Hospital on June 19 for a 10 day aggressive chemo treatment.
She called me from the hospital on June 20th. Another silent start.
She found out when she was admitted that she would actually be there for 6 weeks, not 10 days. She was devstated. We talked for ages about all the things she could and should do to put the time in. Laughed. And cried.
They let her go home on the 21st for Fathers Day and for her daughters 4th birthday.
Monday June 22 they start the chemo. Two rounds a day. 12 treatments in 6 days.

I talk to her on the 28th. She was feeling good. Optimistic. We had a conversation like we had had so many times over the past months. Laughing and crying. Talking about her fears. Talking about all the things that were to come. We would do the cottage next year.
That day she told her dr she was feeling good. He told her that the worst is just around the corner. Week 2 would be the roughest. And it was. Two days later she developed a high fever.
I called her room Sunday July 5. Her mom answered and told me she was "So-so" Still had the fever, couldn't talk at that time, but would tell her I called.
I called her husband to get more info. He told me she wasn't doing well. Very high fever for a few days. Was on oxygen. The dr's told him that this is to be expected with her immune system just having been knocked out with such intense chemo. Once the fever breaks she'll be ok. We had a nice chat and talked about how he was doing. Really doing.
How the kids were doing. I asked him about the pathology. The were retesting the original slides because her case was so unusual. What we had feared was true. The lymphoma was a misdiagnosis. It was leukemia all along. He told me the dr said "She'll be fine." He wasn't sure if they say that to everyone or if she realy would. We just knew that she really would. She's such a fiesty fighter.
Then I asked him to get Fiona to call me when she's up for it and I'd come and spend the day with her.

18 hours later my phone rang. It was Ian. My stomach turned when I saw the number on call display. He calmly told me that she had passed away the night before.
He told me all the events that took place after our conversation the day before. She had passed away at 7pm July 5. Five hours after I spoke to him.

I was on my knees sobbing after I hung up. How could she be gone? It can't be true.
No. Just no. Called Sean. Told him she died. Can't talk. Feel like I'm going to vomit. No. Just no. Call my mom. She can't understand what I'm saying. Finally she does. She will come over as soon as she can.
No. Just no. She has 3 babies that need her. She just weaned her baby 8 months ago. It will be his 2nd birthday next week. NO. Erin just turned 4. Owen just turned 7. She cannot be gone.
I cry most of the day. I cry putting the kids to bed. I sob my heart out in the garage. Like I cried when I was little. I don't care who hears me.
Lay awake all night. It just cannot be. She has been a constant in my life since I was 15.
All night long I pull 20yrs worth of memories out of my bank. Our rail trip to visit Ian when he was in his first year at Western. That horrible New Years we spent on Brampton Transit, but is still one of my most memorable New Years. Our antics when we were cashiers at IGA for all those years in high school. So many...
I keep replaying her voice in my head.
I hear her crying-whisper "I have to be ok"

I notice on my fridge calendar that the bottom inch has been very neatly sliced off. You couldn't even tell that it had been cut off. But I knew it had been because Fiona's hospital number and room extension were written there. I asked about it. Sean did it. Trying to protect me from things that might creep up and upset me.

Ian called me Tuesday to give me details regarding the service and to ask if Sean would be a pallbearer.
And if I would do a reading at the funeral. Of course. We would each be honoured.
Afterward, I got angry. I did a reading at her wedding 11yrs ago. I do NOT want to do one at her funeral. It's not that I don't want to do it. I just don't want her to have a funeral. I don't want her to be dead.
I want my friend back.
Why did she have to die??? She can't be gone. No no no. Just no.
Wednesday is the visitation. We get there first and I see Ian and I fall apart in his arms. He tells me to cry as many tears as I need to. So I do. I cry throughout the night. Often feeling disbelief that we were there. For that. She was ok a week ago. We were laughing. And crying...but laughing too.

Thursday morning we arrive for the funeral. I see her children in the parking lot with Ian and I start to cry. Sean grabs my hand and asks if I'm ok. I say I am but we both know I'm not.
I cry when I see my husband carry my best friends coffin to the hearse. I am angry again and want her back. Her daughter has been crying the whole time. My heart has been breaking for her. And her 2 little boys. Their mother is gone. Gone. How can this be?????? NO. JUST NO.
We go to the church. I do my reading. Fiona's father chose it. I hope the words gave him some comfort. Throughout the mass we hear little Erin in the pew beside us, still crying. That makes Sean cry.
And toward the end we hear little Kieran's baby voice softly calling "Mommeee...Mommeeee...."

We leave to go to the cemetary. I watch my husband carry her casket again. I feel a little bit of peace that he is one of the people carrying her to her final resting place. But sad and angry that we are here to bury her.
I place a white rose on her casket, kiss my fingers and press them onto the casket and step back to Sean.
I watch the casket lower into the ground and I feel sick and bury my head into Sean's chest.

The plan was to beat this motherfucking disease and get back to being a Mommy. Not to bury her...Fuck fuck fuck this sucks.

I have never had to deal with grief this close. Friends parents have passed away. Grandparents have passed away. I have been to funerals before. I have cried and grieved for people who have died.
But never has it hurt. Never has it confused me. Never has it kept me up at night feeling ill. Never has it been inconsistent like this - fine one minute sobbing the next. Never has it felt so surreal. I think much of the time I am still in disbelief. I cannot even get my head around the fact that I will never have a conversation with her again. That the next time I go over there - she won't be there sipping a cup of tea. I can't believe that those babies she devoted her entire being to have no mother. I can't believe Ian is a widower.
I am feeling all sorts of emotions which I believe make grieving the painful and difficult process that it is.
I feel guilty doing regular things. I took the kids to the park and felt guilty that she will never catch Kieran at the bottom of a slide. Or push Erin on a swing or take Owen for a bike ride. But I get to do all of those things.
It's so fucked up...I feel like this will make me a better mother - not wasting a minute being cross with them, doing as much as I can with them. Then I feel guilty. Why do my kids get a better mom, when her kids don't even have one anymore????
Then I feel angry that she was taken from her kids and they are so young that they likely won't have very many memories of her. Owen just turned 7. He will likely have some memories. But Erin just turned 4. When I think back to 4 I have very few memories. And Kieran is not yet 2. He will not remember her. I hate that and it makes me angry. Those kids were her life.
And I'm scared. I feel mortal. More than I ever have. What if it happens to me?

I feel sad. Sad for everyone who loved her.
Sad for her. How scared she must have been. This was her worst fear. She told me. She told me things that she didn't tell Ian.
He told me at the visitation that she cried in front of him twice the whole time she was sick.
She cried to me every time we spoke. I was told a long time ago that people cry where and when they feel safe. I can only hope that I provided a safe and comforting place for her when she needed it.
A few weeks ago, right after the second diagnosis, I told her I loved her. I felt a little bit embarassed after I said it. Not sure it made her uncomfortable or not. That's something I only ever tell Sean or my kids. But I didn't even think about it and just said it. And I am so glad I did. I'm sure she knew I loved her, but I am glad I told her.

She was beautiful and dynamic and funny and optimistic. She has a happy soul and spirit and I am grateful that she was my friend.
I will take the hurt and the grief as long as it's here. It's a process I know I will get through.
But I don't think I will never stop wishing my friend was still here.

I love you Fiona and I will miss you forever.
I will make sure that Owen, Erin and Kieran know all the stories about you that I have to share with them. They may not remember, but they will know who you were, and how very much all you ever wanted was to be their mom.