Our Story - Part Nine

Besides the minor accident I had on icy roads, there have been other moments that threatened our friendship. No one wants their lifeline severed, and Cheryl and I count it a blessing each day to see that ours is still intact.

Shortly after we became friends, Cheryl was diagnosed with a rare form of glaucoma. Especially rare, was the fact that she was in her mid-forties and had it. Her life has become a series of surgeries and daily eye drops. The possibility of total vision loss in the future is always in the back of our minds. Like everything else in her life, Cheryl has faced it with bravado and complete faith in God.

Cheryl became very ill during one of our Bandera trips. Her repeated gasps for breath scared me. Surely, God would protect my friend, I thought, since He brought her into my life in the first place. It was quickly decided that Cheryl needed medical help. I drove her into Bandera to a clinic where tests were run. It was discovered that Cheryl has asthma. She was given prescriptions to keep it under control and soon her breathing was back to normal. I'm convinced she was feeling better before I was. The whole incident was horrifying for me.

Since then, Sid has had to rush her to the emergency room as Cheryl has tried to catch her breath. These episodes, as anyone can imagine, are a time of panic for her. Having to gasp for air feels as if death is closing in. I'm glad I learned of these awful times after the fact. I would have been pacing the floor like a zombie.

Two years ago as we were driving home from Bandera, Cheryl said she didn't feel well. I had to stop on the side of the road where Cheryl proceeded to get sick. It kept getting worse, so I took her to a clinic when we arrived home. She was given medications to stop the vomiting and diarrhea, and was able to fly home the next day, feeling better but drained. We think she had a touch of food poisoning. We'd had breakfast at our favorite restaurant in Bandera the morning we left. Since it was a lovely day, we sat on the patio overlooking a river. I commented on how good the coffee was and Cheryl didn't agree with me. Hers tasted bad. She uses cream in her coffee and I don't. The creamer, left outside in the sun, could have been the culprit.

Forgive me, Cheryl, but I'm going to embarrass us both. Perhaps you more than me. Before I took Cheryl to the clinic for the suspected food poisoning, I stopped by a drug store to purchase adult diapers. Cheryl was so ill that she had no control over her bodily functions. The only reason I am mentioning this is because I had surgery in the same year and Robin and I had to drive from the Houston area back home and feared that I would have an accident. Not an auto accident, but the kind of accident that adult diapers are good for. I, too, had little control over my body after being heavily sedated. My internal organs were't fully awake. Again, Cheryl commented about how we both had that same experience only months apart. We'll probably go into dentures at the same time. But I'll receive my Social Security check a full 13 months before she does since I'm the older of the two.

Since Cheryl is already embarrassed, I will add another little story. When she was living here, she showed me a sore place on one of her toes. I told her it was a corn and suggested ways to treat it. I'm an old pro at corns. I had them for years until I started taking Grape Seed Extract. Cheryl was horrified to learn that she would have to walk into a drug store, without a disguise, and buy corn pads. "Cheryl, they are corn pads, not feminine pads," I told her. Still, she couldn't bring herself to face the humiliation of laying a package of corn pads on the counter. Being the friend that I am, I picked up those horribly embarrassing items, marched to the counter, and paid for them, while Cheryl stood back and acted like she's never seen me before in her life.

Cheryl had her own scare about me a few months ago. Robin and I had just arrived at our condo on the beach the day before when I awoke with a distended stomach and some slight pain. Before long, the pain increased and I started vomiting and getting terrible tremors. We headed for the emergency room where I was taken to emergency surgery to remove a blockage from my small intestines. I was in ICU for three days with a tube down my throat and unable to speak clearly. When I was finally moved to my own room and the tube removed, I was able to call Cheryl. The relief in her voice was apparent. "I have just sat on the edge of my bed and cried," she told me. "Poor Sid. He didn't know what to do with me."

Close calls are devastating under any circumstances. For Cheryl and me, we have seen and felt the loss of someone we loved, and the thought of our lifeline breaking, too, is unbearable. God knew we needed each other and brought us together at the grief seminar. He knows the need is still there, and we praise Him for taking care of this friendship from heaven.

Tomorrow, Part Ten, the final post for now, will appear.