Apologies and Thanks

I think the most precious thing when you have cancer is time. The average life expectancy for women in the developed world is about eighty years. When you have cancer, that shrinks dramatically. In my case, average life expectancy is less than one year. That means I need to fit forty years of life into just months.

This ticking time clock is my biggest source of stress these days. It's 5:00 a.m. and I can't sleep. I've been lying awake for the past three hours, thinking of all the things I need to do:

- Write letters to friends and family so I don't die with things left unsaid.
- Answer phone calls, especially those from friends far away, whom I haven't spoke to in months.
- Respond to the 275 unanswered e-mails in my Inbox, some from as far back as a year or two. I've set some of these aside for a quiet moment when I can reflect and write a thoughtful, rather than a cursory, hurried response, but I just haven't found enough of those quiet moments.
- Go through piles of insurance documents to try to claim some money for my treatment from 2006. I've had to put this at the bottom of my priority list because time is far more precious than money right now.
- Update Josie's and Toby's baby books so they can see how they grew up and what they were like as babies.
- Write letters to Josie and Toby, telling them all the things I won't be around to tell them as they grow up.
- Post the many Blogs and thoughts I've written in my head, but not yet had the time to write down.
- Make lists of my wishes about what I'd like to happen after I die: funeral and burial requests, what to do with all the paperwork I'm leaving behind, what to do with my possessions I want to leave to family and friends.
- Buy presents for Josie and Toby for the big events in their lives: their sixteenth birthday, their move to college, their wedding, their first experience as parents. I'd like these to be kept for them and given to them after I'm gone.
- Do special things with Josie and Toby to create memories they can keep after I'm gone.
- Write a cancer information Blog site and a presentation for the Breast Cancer Foundation, which I've promised to do.
- Spend time with fellow cancer patients and survivors, to provide the support and encouragement I wish I'd had when I was first diagnosed and undergoing treatment.

And many, many mundane things like paying bills and planning healthy meals for the kids. Or the many things that a considerate, courteous person should do. I have Christmas presents, birthday presents and thank-you notes I still haven't sent out. I have telephone messages from a week ago I haven't responded to. I have promised dates with friends I haven't been able to keep yet.

I'm feeling quite overwhelmed. I'm constantly worried that my friends and family will never know how much their friendship, support, and encouragement have meant to me simply because I can't find the time to sit down to tell them. I'm constantly feeling the stress of having to spend time doing the things I need to do, knowing that I'm taking precious time away from my children.

I know that many of you feel the same time pressures that I do. I know many of you are juggling jobs, kids, spouses, family and friends and go for weeks and even months without having spent a single hour all to yourself. And despite that, you're offering to spend time with me and do things for me. I want you to know how much I appreciate all the offers of help I've had. I'm really impressed and touched that I have such incredibly thoughtful and caring friends and family.

You've all helped to renew my faith in people and dissolve my cynicism by showing me that there is true goodness in the human heart and in the world around us. You've given me hope for my children. Maybe because they're surrounded by all of our wonderful friends, they won't grow up with the cynicism that I did. They will grow up believing that human nature is inherently good and there is still hope in this world, despite what they hear about suicide bombings, child molesters, wars and murderers in the news.

As I lay in bed tonight, unable to sleep and feeling tense with all the things I want and need to say and do, I thought I should at least send out a general apology.

I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep up my end of correspondences and communications. I have written many letters in my head, asking how you're doing, how your children and spouses are doing, whether you're happy and healthy. I'm sorry I haven't been able to ask you in person or even in a phone call or e-mail.

I'm sorry I can't spend the time with you that I'd like to. Know that I'm thinking of you and hoping to one day tell you how much your friendship and support have meant to me, especially since my cancer diagnosis. You've all helped me and given me hope, each in your own special way. I hope to someday be able to tell you about it. I'm sorry I can't do all this now.

And I'm especially sorry I have to resort to a general letter like this, which I know is quite tacky. Miss Manners would be appalled. But she doesn't have less than a year to live so what does she know?

By the way, I'm not convinced I have just months to live, just because the statistics and medical evidence say so. I still believe in miracles. But I also believe in being responsible to the people who care about me, so I'm making preparations.

Okay, now that I've gotten all that off my chest, maybe I can go back to bed and try to sleep for an hour before the kids get up.