Safe and warm

Here's my kitteh, Nom, again. She's all cuddled up in a soft blanket on top of my bed. Safe and warm, a lucky kitteh. It's snowing right now and we're under the second lake effect snow warning of the week. We're supposed to get anywhere from 4 inches to like 2 feet of snow in the next 2 days. Well, it's Ohio, this is how it be. If you can't take the snow, move to Florida. A true Ohioan will bitch a lot, put the snow brush in the car and make fun of the local tv weatherman..."Oooh...four inches by morning? Let me know when it's four inches an hour, wimp!" But this post isn't about snow or being safe and warm...this post is about thinking you're safe and warm. Then you find out there really is 2 feet of snow outside and you can't escape it. My youngest son has had this friend since he was 7 or 8 years old. His friend's mom and I became friends because of their friendship. She always says "You and I are best friends in second grade." About 4 years ago, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has had many different kinds of treatments for it, as the breast cancer cells migrated to her lungs and liver. It's been up and down...this test result was good, then this one was bad...putting your hope in the next treatment. Her latest test results show the tumour in her liver is now fist-sized and the tumours in her lungs are getting bigger. She's in constant pain now for the first time since this all began, as the tumour grows and pushes out from inside her. She said "When I don't take a pain pill, man, I really feel it." Her doctor gave her a year. A year? A year left of her life? Are you serious? I can't even fathom this statement. I start to imagine...her son, her husband, her sisters, her life...but my mind just keeps saying "A year? A year?" Less than 2 months ago, after a doctor's check-up, my almost-83 year old mother was diganosed with lung cancer. A fist sized tumour, pushing against her airway, completely closing off her right lung. Fist sized. Why always "fist-sized"? Because it makes you want to punch something? Why not "apple sized" or even "the size of a wireless mouse"? Why not even "3 inches in diameter"? I guess maybe the fist is sort of like a metaphor for cancer. My mother has had 4 chemo sessions, with another scheduled for tomorrow, but she is fading fast - not eating, not drinking, not sleeping, the other day it took her 2 hours to take a shower. She leaves herself notes that say "Wash dishes. Get dressed. Brush hair." My sister is going to move mom in with her now. To take care of her as she finishes her life. Mom will be happy to have the company of her family and maybe that will even make her feel better, give her a little longer. A little longer to see the snow, snuggle a kitten and feel the comfort of a warm blanket.