It has been a year since I moved in with my best friend Doris.
Doris was diagnosed with lung cancer in the spring of 2005. She had chemotherapy, radiation and then surgery in the summer of 2005.
A year later, in August of 2006, Doris found out that her lung cancer had spread to her brain. She underwent a 9 hour brain surgery to remove a tumor. After the brain surgery she asked me to stay at her house so she would not be alone at night.
Of course I moved in. Doris had been my best friend since 5th grade, more than 40 years. We'd had a lot of good times - from roller skating to Las Vegas. We had been through boyfriends, husbands, divorce, jobs, moves and more. She had always been there for me as I raised 4 children. She did not have kids so they were like her own. They called her Dory. Yearly she took them on the swimsuit shopping odyssey. She bought their First Communion dresses because she would not allow them to share the same dress. She let my son drive her sports car to prom. She always told them that it was their job to take care of her in her old age. But they were in high school and college when she arrived at her old age of 53. So, of course, I was there for her.
I am reminded of all of this as I walk to the Union today after class. It is a perfect, beautiful fall day at KU. I enjoy KU the most in the fall. KU is always at its best in the fall. It is crystal clear except for the fog that envelops me as I walk by every door to every KU building. It isn't like the beautiful mist that hid the campus outline on the way to school this morning. No, no. It is stinky. And dirty. The smokers have exited their classes and they all look like they're in a hurry to get a fix. I understand they need a cigarette.
It is just that each time I see someone smoking I have this terrible urge to run up to them and grab their cigarette. I stop myself when I imagine what might happen if I did that.
I see beautiful girls and strong, young men and know their future. I want to show them a picture of Doris before and after cancer. I want to scold them.
I routinely scolded Doris. She always said she would rather smoke and die than give up her cigarettes. I told her it wasn't the dying that was the problem. She did quit when the doctors told her she had cancer. She started smoking again when they told her she had weeks to live. She enjoyed it.
I don't need to cite the statistics of the health effects of smoking or the number of deaths due to cigarettes. Everyone knows that smoking kills. But it is the living that is the problem. Doris lost a little more control of her life everyday. She was outraged when people started making decisions for her. She was mad when we took the car away. She spent more money than ever on QVC because she could, even though she knew she would never be able to use the things she bought. We returned them. She fought with the doctors. She fought with us. She fought the cancer.
She died March 20th. I wish she was here to enjoy this beautiful fall day. I miss her.