I have a tradition. Every birthday since I was 19 years old, my best friends from my hometown and I get together for a float trip. This is absolute joy to me. To hang out with my closest friends who know me better than anyone get together to sit on a raft, drink some beers, tell the same stories we always tell about all of our memories we have had since we were pre-k.
This year, I woke up on Saturday, ready for the float. Phone in the car, packing gear for the float, and our ride to our float is late. I go and check my phone and have a text from my old co-worker.
"Call me when you wake up."
I get in my car, make sure I have service, and call my dear friend. The only parts of the conversation I remember are this:
"So, how are you? ... It's your float trip? ... Crap... I found this bump. I went to the doctor. It's cancer."
The rest of the conversation happened in tears and hope and talking about steps and what was going to happen. And Katie was still worried about me.
Monday happens. Tests and more tests. I'm going to go ahead and say that Monday is my most prized day. My birthday. And it was one of the most stressful and worst days of my life. I'm not saying this to make my beautiful friend feel bad, but that day, will always be engrained in my head as the day the miracle started.
Before I go on, I have to explain this relationship between Katie and I. My Kady.
There is pretty much zero reason we should be friends. We are so incredibly different. At some point, while we worked together at OTC, we came to this realization: We make each other laugh. I remember the exact time Katie said to me, 'I like you because you laugh at my jokes.' And almost immediately, I responded, 'You laugh at my jokes!' Something clicked and there was nothing but unfiltered friendship since that point.
After years and babies and beaches and too many memories to count, Katie moved on to MSU and she put on my calendar a weekly Friday lunch, that we have rarely missed.
So what do you do when one of your most favorite persons tells you she has cancer? Seriously. As a bystander, how do you deal with cancer?
First, I think I went into complete shock. Besides crying on that first call with Katie, I just didn't emote. I didn't know what to do. I had some migraines. I had some shakes. I had a lot of stress. But I didn't freak out.
Then after a few long weeks of not having our weekly lunch, I went to sit at chemo with her. WTF do you expect at chemo? How will she feel? What will it look like? I have dealt with cancer in my family, but I have never done this.
And you know what I found when I got there? My friend. My beautiful, always optimistic, smiling Kady. Just sitting there, with an IV looking just like Katie. Are you kidding me? I immediately felt so stupid for thinking some other version of Katie would be waiting there for me.
After 14 weeks of chemo and having the absolute opportunity to sit by her side for a few hours each week - these are our new lunch dates, Hence, Wednesdays are the new Fridays. And it seriously is the normal lunch date we have had for two years since she left OTC and seven years of friendship (plus some Benadryl induced napping that I may or may not have taken advantage of). Sure, my questions are over labs and results, and then it is over organizational charts (which we love), stupid gossip, BKB and BTB, my niece and nephew, family, stupid stories, and everything we always talk about.
And then you have those absolute superficial moments. The conversation goes like this: You have a beautiful bald head. Look how perfect it is. Just like you. So freaking perfect. ... Dude. You still have your eyebrows. *weeks later* DUDE. You still have your eyebrows! ... You are wearing jeans today! Holy cow! ... And all of those moments seem normal. Because this is the new normal.
Getting to know the chemo nurses. Getting to know the other women killing cancer in the same room, week after week. And I'm just a bystander.
But there are HUGE moments where I think I failed at being a friend of someone who is dealing with this whole terrible, bad, no good, cancer thing. I think, I literally just texted her about something so small. She has cancer for goodness sakes. We just looked over the OTC org chart to see who was doing whatever. And I feel bad. But then. Then I realize, that is what we always do. That is who we are. Cancer or not. Kady and Kimmers are two ridiculously funny human beings who might only think we are funny but we are really funny. This is what our friendship is based on. A person who will text me the most hilarious thing that makes me laugh out loud, and I have a pretty stupid story to tell her right back that makes her laugh.
She has changed my life. And cancer has changed her life and will forever change our lives, but with change, the constant of our friendship is right there.
And so that. That is what you do when your friend has that big ol' C word. Cancer. You make each other laugh. You send too many emojis. You take really unflattering pictures. And you continue to be friends. Just freaking hilarious friends.
I am so incredibly thankful that years ago the Coulter family took me in and I get to go on this crazy, stupid, unexpected journey with my Kady. I'm so glad we make each other laugh. And most of all, I am so glad she is getting ready to junk punch this cancer into submission. Pow.
