Please.

I don’t have much power in this world, but I need something. I don’t have fame or fortune or a huge readership, and I don’t know what to do. I need help.

I need your hope. Because I need my friend to be okay.

He’s been through enough. He’s had a whole lot of shitty thrown his way, and each time he’s bested it. He’s finally with the woman absolutely meant for him. He has three amazing kids. He has hundreds of friends because he’s a miraculously good person. The type who gets a raw deal time and time again (and again and again) yet still smiles and makes people feel that they’re special. Makes us laugh and cry and appreciate being alive.

The motherfucking cancer that tried to kill him didn’t. And he had one blissful year after the torture of chemo and radiation and surgery.

And that stupid fucking no good cancer is back.

I don’t really have the power to do anything, and, of course, it’s not about me. Except I hurt just hearing that he’s in pain. That he’s scared. That his family is upside fucking down with fear.

So I want to get every single person I can thinking good thoughts. I can turn the Universe, right? Heartfelt pleas for good thoughts mean something, right?

Pray if you do. Hope if you will. Send him some good wishes if you please. I know there are lurkers amongst you, those who come out when it’s important.

He desperately needs something, and I want to give everything I can. So please. Send him a few thoughts or prayers or wishes. Type him a few words, would you, even though you don’t know him. Please.

The world needs him.

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18 thoughts on “Please.

  1. Done. I meditate almost daily for people going through this “stupid fucking no good cancer” as I am. In our camp we call cancer a bitchy whore. Whatever works. Best of healing to your friend.

  2. I am sending hope to him and all the best wishes I can muster. Come on universe. Come on spirits. Come on God. Come on vagaries of the planets. Do this for him. He is due.

  3. I’m sorry, Christine’s Treasured Friend, and I want to help if I can. I’m more spiritual than religious but I believe in the Bible’s message and the power of prayer. God listens and he knows how loved you are. Touch is a powerful healer. I regret that I cannot hold your hand so I ask that those who are dearest to you will hold it for me.

  4. Sending out all of the healing vibes that can be mustered. Hope that you are comfortable, dear friend of Christine’s, and that every day brings a bit more positivity and health. <3

  5. i am not quaker either but i like that, hold someone in the light. consider your friend held in the light and filled with all good thoughts and energy and hope.

    • Thank you all so much. It’s intensely touching that you’d wish a stranger well. I know it’ll help.
      Keep the good thoughts coming, and write whatever you want him to see. I’ll tell him about this post right before he heads to his next round of Chemo.
      And I’ll update you when I know anything.

  6. Hugs to you, to his family and friends. It’s hard to watch someone you love suffer. Most of all, I’ll be holding him in the light, as well. (I love that sentiment – so thank you, Kristin) I hope the days start looking up soon.

  7. Your plea for help for your dear friend moved me. I had no option but to leave him a note.
    Dear friend of Christine –
    I pray for you to have even more strength as the cancer comes back and takes over your body again. I pray that somehow there will be a way that you can beat this back into remission. But most of all I pray that you believe, with every fiber of your soul, that you are loved by your dear friends, family, and people who do not even know you. And I pray that this love will bring you out of the depths of this selfish disease.
    With all my heart –
    Monique

  8. As the friend that Christine wrote this fine piece about, I’d like to thank her and all of you for your heartfelt comments. This second time dance with cancer has made me very aware of the power of prayer, meditation, or whatever one practices.

    Christine, thank you for your kind words. I decided not to argue with some of your assertions and let myself think that I’m as awesome as you say.

    I find out the results of my pet scan today; hopefully all spots will have shrunk and I’ll be off to add another scar to my torso.

    Thank you again,

    Jay

  9. Pingback: Every day miracles for once in a lifetime « Naptime Writing

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