Collateral Damage

The cover of Time Magazine this week shows a street in Lebanon or Israel after an airstrike. The photo is in color, but the color is all gray, save a few signs and bits of cloth. Just like the 9-11 photos, their world is covered by the dust of what used to be concrete and streets and people's lives.

Cancer has its own collateral damage. The first missles are a big surprise and they keep coming until you wonder when they run out. But the dust keeps settling on everything, in every corner and every window sill. The impact point looks bad, but the dust goes everywhere.

We seem to be in a state of constant bombardment of reminders of our time with Drew. We don't want to ignore what's happened - sometimes the chance encounters with folks who don't mention it are more uncomfortable than those that ask, with true concern, how we are doing. And we refuse to remove the zillions of pictures, trophies, and memories from our homes and wrists and harddrives. We will learn to sleep through the night again, just not as quick as Westbrook has.

The world doesn't let up, either, with its barrage. Recent bombing runs include Ben's return to Australia, a tough day for both those leaving the nest and the empty-nesters. He got his own scare when he arrived in Australia to find himself unenrolled and his tuition check returned to sender - that one took lots of scrambling and seems to have been solved. We have also been amazed at how often the word "cancer" comes up over the course of one day of reading, TV, email, and conversation. (Google has 815 million references to "cancer", well ahead of "God" and "peace".)

The insurance companies keep us from relaxing. A contest: who can guess the closest to the cost of 39 days at Duke (the medical center, not the school)? A prize for the closest number. And the insurance folks who audit like to contact us every few weeks to report another discovery, always in their favor, which Jane then disproves with her great record-keeping and strategic crying fits.

Unlike the Middle East,though, we have lots of color amidst the dust. Melissa's bubbly calls about the latest progress on Grandkid 2 make us smile, and Grandkid 1 is smiling himself now, along with being generally cute. Our friend and family support team has not forgotten us, and we are putting empty-nester plans all over the calendar. The insurance processes may annoy us, but the individuals have been great overall - one even told us that when a customer challenges a claim, they are usually right so they always pay attention. And the whole affair renews our faith in working for good companies with great benefits.

We continue to await the autopsy results, an important part of the closure to this adventure. In the meantime, we'll keep clearing the day's dust and counting our other blessings.