With Spence’s arrival, the Supreme Council of Old Farts was now in session. Charlie, Old Simon, Spence, Dave, and I had our steaming cups of coffee and the pastry of our choice. The morning’s running jokes had been shared. And then came that awkward silence as the elephant in the room began to circle the table. His name was Cancer, and he was the uninvited guest of our friend, Spence.
Dave had been keeping us up on Spence’s rounds of chemo and endless tests as his doctors tried to get ahead of the cancer. But the optimism of the first couple of months was now threadbare. The signs were not good. Spence’s fight was becoming more desperate. They had stopped his chemo a few days ago to reevaluate his situation. While the respite from treatment had allowed Spence to feel well enough to get out a bit, he was not any better. Dave picked him up today so that he could join us for the first time in many months. And it was great to see him, but… he brought that damned elephant with him, and no one knew how to talk about it.
Old Simon found the right words. Old Simon was a survivor. As the oldest member, he had survived cancer and many other life battles. “Dave has told us that they are giving you some time before they start the next round.”
Dave replied, “That’s the generous version. Actually, they are stepping back to see if there is anything else they can do. They are starting to look at some experimental treatments because all the standard ones have not slowed the B@#&*%$d down!”
Old Simon shook his head and said, “That sucks!” All of us shook our heads, acknowledging the weight of that horrible moment.
Spence spoke up, “Yea, it does! You know, I was hopeful at first. Most folks who get cancer come through it and have a few more years to enjoy. But it has been four months and my cancer has not even slowed down. They told me yesterday that it has started to spread.”
The elephant plopped his fat butt down on the table and it shook all of us, body, mind, and soul. Those terrible words echoed in our ears. “…it has started to spread.”
Dave, the eternal optimist, replied, “This is just a setback. They will find something.” That empty hope hung down in the middle of the table and we all grabbed for its lifeline. All but Spence, that is.
Spence took a bite of his Apple Fritter and said, “I think it is time for me to face up to the fact that I may not win this one.”
Our first reaction was loud and angry. Dave responded, “Don’t say that Spence. It has only been four months.” I added, “Yea, it’s too early to give up. You still got a lot of fight in you.” Charlie chimed in, “Hell, Spence, you can’t give up now. You don’t know what those docs can do. They have all kinds of tricks up their sleeve.” Spence sat silent. He realized that his friends could not bear the awful news any better than he could.
Old Simon spoke up, “Yep. Being a fool about your cancer could cost you a whole lot more than your life. It could cost you being able to live your life in the next few months. It could take away those precious moments with your family and friends. It could steal the joy of each sunset.” He paused, scanned each of our faces, and then looked right at Spence and said, “We are here to make sure that whatever you decide, we will be with you to help you enjoy whatever time you have, be it years or months. Only you can make the call about when it is time to give up the fight.”
Spence was humbled by his friend’s hope. They were right, he didn’t know more than his Docs. And they were not going to tolerate him giving up while there was still a fighting chance. But Spence came to realize that when the fight was over, they would still be right there with him. They would not tolerate him giving up on the rest of them. They were part of his living hope. And he was not about to let go of them. Nor would he give up on the rest of his life until the doctors told him that he could not win.
“You guys are the best,” Spence replied. “Y’all are not going to give up on me. And I am not going to give up on my Docs, my family, or you. We’ll fight this until the Docs tell us it is time to stop.” He stopped, lost in a new insight, and then said, “You know, I can say that because no matter what the next few months bring, you guys will still be here backing me up all the way.”
There was a huge sigh of relief as the elephant lifted his be-hind from the table and walked out the door. The Supreme Council of Old Farts then moved on to solving the world’s problems, one pastry at a time. But Spence, Old Simon, Dave, Charlie, and I understood a bit more about just how important these weekly confabs were. They reminded us that hope grew out of leaning on others, and that was the only comfort any of us ever really needed.
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