Dr. Gary Small

“I’m coming,” I heard someone with my voice say.

I’ve known her longer than any other friend – since the third grade. We may not jaw on the phone everyday, or even go out to dinner every month, but when we do get together we connect like no time has passed at all. We either laugh our heads off or cry our eyes out – sometimes both. There are no secrets too embarrassing to tell because we already know the unspeakable about each other.Childhood misadventures, college antics, dating fiascos, family woes, kid-raising traumas – nothing is secret between us. I cringe when I think of the horrid things she could tell my husband about me.

And now her husband has cancer. Not the friendly kind you can treat and live with for 30 years, but the pancreatic kind that makes your wife a widow in 12 weeks. But he’s already beaten the odds and lived through eight months of chemo. And they’re about to travel from Los Angeles to Baltimore to have the remaining tumor taken out by a surgeon who is world renowned in removing pancreatic tumors. When I heard they were schlepping there, I remember thinking that with all the fine doctors in Los Angeles, why would they turn their lives and their kids’ lives upside down by going to Baltimore for the surgery and recovery? She always was a little nutty…

Then came the call. “My friend Lilly was supposed to come, but something came up,” my friend said. Now no one was coming with them. No one would sit with her in the hospital and hold her hand and say it’s going to be okay. No one would go get her coffee and a candy bar too – what the hell. Her parents were dead and her brothers were “indisposed,” as were her husbands’ entire family. Other than their kids, she would be sweating it out in that hospital – across the nation – alone. Shit. “I’m coming,” I heard someone with my voice say. I looked around to make sure I’d heard that right. She was ecstatic, “Are you sure? Gary won’t mind? Can you take off work? Will your kids be okay? I can’t believe it! I need you so much! Thank you so much!”

There was no turning back. I booked a ticket to Baltimore. Blowing off work was a given. My daughter would have to drive my son around (which she hates) and my husband would have to figure out dinner for a few nights. But as the day approached, instead of dreading it, I found myself looking forward to it. I was glad I was going. I would get her more coffee and candy bars than she could swallow, dammit. Besides, if I didn’t go, I’d be calling non-stop anyway. And I’ve learned by now that some opportunities come up in life when putting yourself out there for someone else makes your own life more meaningful – if you can just recognize those moments in time. And if you don’t seize those opportunities, they’re gone forever – you may never get another chance to make things right with an elderly parent, or spend more time with your children while they’re young, or go to Baltimore to hold your friend’s hand.

And his surgery was a walloping success. They had to check the charts to make sure they had opened up the right patient because they could hardly see a dot on his pancreas. We all celebrated together when they told us he might outlive us all. And my friend and I had those candy bars and a bunch of champagne too. She needed me to share her joy and relief. And even if things had gone the other way, she would have needed me – even more. I was there. And I feel great.