Today was a very interesting, sad, and memorable day. A dear friend of mine - who has been battling breast cancer for more than two years - was hospitalized yesterday. Hearing that news so close to this upcoming monster of an anniversary was almost too much to bear.
I met Leah through work. We actually profiled her fight against breast cancer for a story. Jason and I laid together on his couch and watched the first report that aired. We both remarked at what an incredible woman she is, and how she was facing her fight with courage and determination. This was three months before Jason died. My colleagues and I continued to follow Leah and her treatments over the next few months, and decided to do a follow-up report on her in November (Click here to see the report).
Leah has become a friend, and I stay up to date on what's going on with her. Things have not been going well for her lately and she's been going through quite a few blood & platelet transfusions, and numerous rounds of chemo. That's why my heart leapt into my throat yesterday when I saw she posted on Facebook that she was back in the hospital. I knew I had to go see her the next day, so a co-worker who had helped produce Leah's stories and I made arrangements to pay her a visit.
I knew Leah was being treated at Baylor, so I knew that she would be hospitalized there. I also knew that there was a chance that she'd be housed on the very same floor where Jason had been cared for half a dozen times throughout his illness. What I didn't know is that walking back onto that floor would have such an impact on me. I had been back to the hospital several times since he died. I went to the outpatient cancer center to visit his chemo nurses, and even shot a few stories at the hospital itself. I enjoyed going back to visit the nurses, as they were like family to us. However, this was the first time that I'd be going back to the place where Jason spent so many nights.
Stepping off the elevator on the sixth floor, my heart began to beat faster. It was as if only a day had passed since I was there last. The place hadn't changed at all. Everything was as I remembered it. We walked through the door and past the nurses station on our way to Leah's room - 605. In the back of my mind, I wondered "Did Jason stay in this room?" My question was answered the second I walked in...he had. Leah is sleeping in the very same bed that Jason had been in some time ago. It was everything I had in me not to break down crying right then and there.
Seeing Leah was tough. She's visibly changed by what she's been going through, and her demeanor is different. Moments after we arrived, she began asking me questions about Jason's memorial service, planning, etc. She asked about the urn we selected for him, and expressed that she wanted to design her own urn. Normally, talking about this stuff wouldn't bother me - having been there before. But, sitting in that room, looking at her in that bed...it was an extremely difficult conversation. I left an hour later and spent the drive back to work crying my eyes out.
12 months ago on May 19th, we were dealing with getting Jason's affairs in order. We were preparing to meet with Hospice and get that started, and we were just a couple days away from welcoming his parents in for the long haul...a haul that only lasted 1 week. A week from Friday, it was all over. I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that it's been a year. How can so much time have passed when it still hurts so much? How can so much time have passed when I can still recall every detail of those last few days?
It just doesn't seem real.
Until next time --
Stuart
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