The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

Or, the fragility of life and happiness.

My friend Todd found out yesterday that he has a brain tumor. He's not quite 38 years old, and has two kids, 12 and 9. He runs, watches what he eats, and is, apparently, in perfectly good health, except for an area of his brain that's gone haywire.

The tumor was discovered because he'd been having periods of lightheadedness. He went to his doctor, who thought it was probably just a virus affecting his inner ear causing the problems. He waited about a week, and when the problem was no better, made an appointment with an ENT. That appointment was Monday, and when the ENT didn't see anything odd, they ordered a MRI, which was done Monday afternoon. Todd was to come in on Thursday to see the results.

Yesterday morning, he got a call from the ENT asking him to come in at 11.

The tumor is smooth, which is apparently a good sign. Todd has an appointment with a neurologist next Tuesday to talk about treatment options.

Todd is my closest friend at work, and one of the best people I know. He's honest and fair, as long as you don't talk bad about his Steelers. He loves his two boys, and would do anything for them. He'd do about anything for his friends and family. He is one of the good people that bad things aren't supposed to happen to, but frequently do. He's now had the rug literally ripped out from under him, and is suddenly facing issues that he never thought he'd have to at this age. His father died of cancer, and various other relatives have had it, as well, which is a further concern.

His diagnosis has also affected those around him. Obviously, it's most affected his family, but his colleagues are affected as well. Todd is one year younger than I am; we've run together, laughed together, drank together and worked together. Our kids have gone to the same summer daycamps. This is making me face my own mortality in ways that I really am not prepared for. Have I done everything I wanted to at this age? Do my children know how much I love them, and what they mean to me? Do my family and friends? What would I do in this situation? Would I be able to be strong enough to heal, or would I lose hope?

All this, of course, is the Bad and the Ugly. Now for the Good.

In the midst of all this, I have been amazed and touched by the reactions of people who know Todd. As soon as the news went out at work, people began asking for details, expressing concern, or asking what they could do. Some of them are people who have worked with Todd for the eleven years he's been at UNC Hospitals, and some have worked with him only a few days. I have had IM messages from former colleagues, all wanting to know what they can do. People are ready to donate vacation time for his leave, and he hasn't even requested leave donations yet.

But beyond the support for Todd, there's also been the support for our team, and from within our team. I've seen people jump in to take on his work. I've had former bosses call to enquire not just about Todd, but about me, as well. Another friend dug up four pages of truly awful jokes (including Everything I Need to Know I Learned from the Easter Bunny) for me yesterday afternoon, when I really needed to laugh more than anything else.

People understand that as hard as this is on Todd, it is also hard on those around him.

People understand that at times like these, laughter and human contact are worth more than anything else.

People understand that we are all connected, and they are not afraid to reach out to one another.

As Bad and Ugly as this situation is, these things, at least, are Good.