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Sad news, a warning to others
Dec. 13th, 2005 03:45 pmI just learned today that Paula C., a secretary who used to work in our office, has stage IV lung cancer, which has spread to her spine. One of the other secretaries in our office went out to lunch with her a couple of months ago, heard her coughing, and said, "Geez, you better get that checked out." A month ago, they decided she had pneumonia and she was hospitalized. It was then, presumably, that they discovered the worst.
Just a short while ago she was going about her ordinary life, going to work, going out to lunch with friends. Today she lies in a hospital bed on the brink of death, so doped up on medication for the pain that she doesn't even know that people are there.
She is only 45. Of course, she smoked.
I remember her as a spunky, funny lady, with an infectious whisky laugh, who loved to bowl.
Please, my friends, if you smoke, quit. If you don't, then for the love of Pete, don't start. Don't be offended if I tell you I don't want you to end up like her. It's too late for Paula, but not for you.
I remember when I was offered a cigarette by a kid I knew in 7th grade. I told him no, because I didn't want to get hooked. "I can quit anytime I want," he boasted, puffing on a cigarette himself.
When I saw him at our 20th high school reunion, I reminded him of that conversation. "Oh god," he told me, "it was a good thing you turned me down. I want to quit, but I can't."
I think of that special St. Lucia's Day surprise I got from the girls this morning. I might have been giving up a lifetime of moments like that if I had taken that first proferred cigarette. Forty-five--that's exactly my age.
If you have quit, please tell me how long it took you, and how you managed it.
What a terrible waste.
Edited to add: This was passed on today by someone who spoke with her husband:
Just a short while ago she was going about her ordinary life, going to work, going out to lunch with friends. Today she lies in a hospital bed on the brink of death, so doped up on medication for the pain that she doesn't even know that people are there.
She is only 45. Of course, she smoked.
I remember her as a spunky, funny lady, with an infectious whisky laugh, who loved to bowl.
Please, my friends, if you smoke, quit. If you don't, then for the love of Pete, don't start. Don't be offended if I tell you I don't want you to end up like her. It's too late for Paula, but not for you.
I remember when I was offered a cigarette by a kid I knew in 7th grade. I told him no, because I didn't want to get hooked. "I can quit anytime I want," he boasted, puffing on a cigarette himself.
When I saw him at our 20th high school reunion, I reminded him of that conversation. "Oh god," he told me, "it was a good thing you turned me down. I want to quit, but I can't."
I think of that special St. Lucia's Day surprise I got from the girls this morning. I might have been giving up a lifetime of moments like that if I had taken that first proferred cigarette. Forty-five--that's exactly my age.
If you have quit, please tell me how long it took you, and how you managed it.
What a terrible waste.
Edited to add: This was passed on today by someone who spoke with her husband:
"I talked to Joe last night for quite some time and Joe said Paula will not be coming home, she may not make it until Christmas. He's meeting with the doctors today and they are going to make the decision on whether to continue care."
