Category Archives: Death


Well, I’m not sure how to write about what I’m thinking but I feel a need to get it out.

I’m not posting this to get people to praise me or tell me what a wonderful friend/person I am. I’ve heard all of that and frankly find it embarrassing.

My dear friend died 3 1/2 weeks ago after a valiant fight against cancer. A fight she knew all along she wouldn’t win. I spent the past 15 months helping her with her fight. I took her to appointments; I picked up medication; I was her advocate with the doctor, nurses, and other medical personnel; I took her to chemo and brought drinks and snacks I thought she’d like; I spent time with her; we took a couple of great trips; I held her hand and told her I loved her. I say all of this just to give some background before sharing what is bothering me tonight.

Part of me feels I was a good friend…


I keep thinking I should have done more. I should have been there more. I should have found more ways to spoil her. I should have fought harder for her. I should have made it better.

Is this feeling normal? Do other caregivers of ill or injured loved ones feel this way? How do I get over this guilt?



Cancer is vicious!

One of my dearest and oldest friends is dying. I don’t even know what to say or think. All I really know is that cancer is vicious.

My wonderful friend is 63 years old. At one time, I’d have thought that was really old. Now, not so much. She is a single mother. She raised an amazing son. She is a partner in her own business. She has many friends spanning many years. She is beautiful, smart, witty, loyal, compassionate.

Her journey to death began with a diagnosis of stage IV anal cancer in April 2015. While she was told that it was incurable, she began the horrible process of chemotherapy. Despite all the mouth sores, nausea, vomiting, hair loss, exhaustion and so many other challenges, she managed to hold the cancer at bay. But too soon, she began to lose the battle.

She became too weak, physically, to continue with chemo. She wasn’t able to eat and kept losing weight. She kept trying. Trying different foods. Trying different medicines. Trying to force herself to get better.

Finally, the doctor told her that she wasn’t going to be able to take chemo anymore. It was time to face the final part of her journey. She went into hospice care. That was about six weeks ago. For a while she maintained something of a “normal” life. She continued to work. She talked with friends on the phone. She had a few visitors, although she wasn’t comfortable with having most people see her at this stage. She carried on with her usual determination and spirit.

Now, just in the last week, she is tiring. She no longer wants “visitors”; she’s only comfortable with the people who have walked this journey with her each day. She tries to keep her pain under control. This means a lot more sleeping. She doesn’t bother to eat. She is afraid.

My wonderful, spirited, strong-willed friend is afraid. She’s afraid of the things this cancer is doing to her. She’s afraid of leaving her family and friends. She’s afraid of what death will be like. She’s afraid.

For now, all I can do is hold her hand. Give her her medicine. Try to make her comfortable. Listen when she wants to talk. Try to be supportive to her son and brother. All I can do is be there. I wish, oh, how I wish, I could do more.