I get into the car; my friend is driving. Check the emails - usual daily issues about the business; write some emails in response drinking water. Then check the text messages - one from some bank promoting something. Delete immediately. The next one is from my mother: "yarin memem aliniyor." "my breast will be removed tomorrow". I look around in the moving car. I look at the cars and buildings around to capture a reflection of what I have just read. No reflection whatsoever; the universe is still alive - there is no tragedy.
Quick call to mother; collect some soothing facts. The cancer hasn't spread anywhere yet and as she is only 55, there is a really good chance that it will not go too bad. Feel the fear in her dignified voice. There will be chemotherapy she says hating what she's vocalizing. Learn about the location and time of the operation and let her know that I'll be there. She seems to be prepared not to have me there with her. But she likes the fact that I seem to be eager about it.
"Do I seem to be that distant?" A quick thought that comes to my mind that should be stored and kept away until the ever postponed parent - son confrontation that will be done one day. (but of course)
We hang up; I look around, chat with my friend. Slightly feeling guilty for having fun. The "tragedizer" in me keeps needling me to remind me that I should feel worse. No; I don't. Maybe it's because I don't perceive it to be very serious.
The concept of death is not very alien to me. Couple of friends had died, couple of remote relatives as well. People died in the hospital I used to volunteer for. In other areas, I have been in cases where I came very close to death myself. But none of these experiences, or similar experiences confronted by other people, not even the fact that my mother in law had to go through the very same thing couple of years ago, could shake me the way this news shook me. In a subtle but powerful way. Despite all these experiences, I realized I didn't feel prone to death until I read that text message yesterday.
I am lucky; both of my parents are alive. So are other really close people in my life. Having the deadly word "cancer" touching my closest circle, it feels like death touches me for the very first time. No matter how serious this case actually is.
I'm not immortal. Not anymore.
5 comments:
My best wishes to your mother.
And a very, very interesting reflection, thanks for it. I feel very much the same way, keep reflecting occasionally about the question why I am still immortal, and what it would possibly take to finally make me understand my mortality (aside from my own death, obviously, which would hardly lead to a lot of new insights afterwards). Here's an answer to this question I can imagine to be true generally, or at least for me as well.
And the ability to mirror an emotion is, after all, the basis of the ability to feel sympathy.
Thus: My sympathy, and best wishes, again.
thank you Rene.
i believe the key is that you realize people you co-exist with; in other words people who actually are deeply and ultimately part of your existence might actually go.
I could imagine what type of feelings you had at that moment
this time last year, I had faced similar situation while I was trying to catch the flight in Madrid
it was my dad's heart attack in Istanbul
fortunately he overcame
I hope to hear good news from your mum
yes, it must have been tough on you - being away and all. lack of control, a sense of helplessness. especially for a master of proactiveness like yourself.
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