The Struggle is Real: All these words, but no words
Man, the struggle is real…
It’s a struggle at times to find words.
I am a communication arts major, with my emphasis in journalism. I competed in speech for four years in high school, and I did events where I had to write my own speeches. I was a thespian on my high school stage for four years. I have interviewed for four jobs, and so far have a perfect record of coming out with job offers (knock on wood…). I taught a summer camp for two years where I spoke in front of groups of three to 25 kids at a time, and most of the time I kept their attention. I have been interviewed on a statewide radio program, and have presented for a church group. I write a monthly column in The West Nebraska Register and write at least one article a week in The Eagle.
I have been told words are my thing by various people . But sometimes, there simply are not words.
Last week, I learned that a friend of my family’s and one of my mom’s best friends’ cancer has progressed quickly.
This man is a doctor. He has spent his life taking care of other people, saving other people’s lives, and bringing new lives into this world, and now his life is in danger.
This man has a way of putting every other person ahead of himself. He made house calls, in an age where house calls aren’t common. He went into work in emergencies, even when he was not on call. He attended football, basketball, wrestling, and baseball games and brought some peace and comfort to all the moms in the stands when they saw him sitting in the bleachers.
He makes jokes when he’s about to give you a shot, or cause you pain in some way, in an effort to make the pain a little less.
This man saved my grandpa. He gave my grandpa back to us for a little while and he brought my grandma peace in a time where there was none, and he did not only care for them at the doctor’s office; he came to their 50th wedding anniversary.
He coached my brother in basketball as a kid, and allowed me to help him coach, even though I was not anywhere close to a basketball star. He made those boys feel special and he made me feel important and welcome.
He coached my brother in baseball with my mom as the assistant, and those two were quite a pair. He would yell at the boys, and immediately after, she would say, “But good try!” They quickly became friends.
This man forced my dad to go to the doctor to get his blood pressure checked, and to make sure he was taking care of himself.
And this man was not the doctor on call when my brother cut off his finger with a table saw, but he showed up in the emergency room anyway, and he worked for as long as he could to save that finger for my brother.
And just a few weeks ago, at district wrestling, this man was sitting at a table watching three mats at once and as soon as there was a blood time or injury time, he was there looking at the boys to make sure they were ok.
His family has already sacrificed so much to allow him to be there for all the rest of us, which shows how amazing his family is as well. His kids are some of the kindest, sweetest people I know and his wife, I believe, is actually a saint.
This man is a doctor. He is the best doctor I have ever known and it will take a lot to change that idea. But, he is also a mentor, to me, a communications major. He is a friend, to me, a 22-year old girl who is the same age as his kids. He is a caregiver, he is an inspiration, and he is a role model.
This man was sent to be a blessing to everyone who crossed his path, and now he’s sick.
And although I was able to write out this column, there are no words to express my sorrow for him and his family. There are no words to express the pain his family and my hometown are feeling with his diagnosis.
There are no words to express just how much cancer sucks.
Words are a struggle, and there are no words to comfort this kind of struggle, but chocolate still exists, so I’ll have to express my care in chocolate.