One of my neighbours had an operation on his prostate to remove a cancerous growth. This was about a month ago, and when another neighbour gave me the gossip my first thought was he is going to be bored to tears. He is an active guy who works hard driving a tow truck and equally hard when he is at home. He’s one of those guys that has a beautifully manicured lawn and gorgeous flowers artfully arranged. Makes the rest of us in the neighbourhood look bad. I didn’t wish cancer on him, more like a brain tweek that takes away his desire to garden at a high level. I wish him a speedy return to work and pray that they got all of the cancer, never to return.
I hope good things for him even though he continues to vote conservative both provincially and federally. I guess he already has something wrong in his head after all.
Today while I was talking to him he mentioned that he hoped the surgeons got all of the cancer but you just never know. I replied with a story about a fellow that I worked with. His wife had breast cancer and she successfully battled it with surgery and chemo. He said he was taking her to Vegas to celebrate. I told him that Vegas doesn’t have a lot of places to sit unless you are gambling, but they went anyway. As it turned out they did not have a good time because there was no place for her to just sit and watch the world. I don’t know why I said that except as an indication that people should listen to me.
After a month or so my buddy (a pack a day smoker) found out that he had spots on his lung. He was off work for a couple of months and I ran into him at the local Tim Horton’s on a Friday afternoon. He was on his way to the oncologist to get his clean bill of health and planned to return to work on Monday. Saturday night, his wife called me and asked if I would be able to take him to the hospital for radiation treatment on Monday. It turned out that the cancer had spread to his brain. Of course I would even though he and I were just work friends. It is the human thing to do.
Three weeks later Leo passed away.
As I was telling the story to my neighbour, I realized that it was not the kind of thing a fellow wants to hear just after his prostrate surgery. I managed to stop talking after the part where his wife beat breast cancer. Good things happen to good people after all.
I was almost that guy. You know the one. He keeps talking and talking and talking when he should not have started in the first place. I consider it a sign that I am finally growing emotionally. I guess it could be that my tongue has finally slowed to the speed of my thought.
Today I wasn’t that guy. I hope that I am not that guy tomorrow but I can’t make any promises.
