Terry Masek: And then she told me she had cancer

Years ago, I was walking through a park late in the afternoon on an overcast October day. The sun was about to set behind the clouds. I sat on a bench near a pond, watching some children feed the ducks that had gathered there.

An older woman walked up and sat on the bench a few feet down from me. We nodded greetings to each other and she tried to smile, but somehow the smile never made it all the way to her face. “Those ducks will be flying somewhere warm soon,” I said, trying to make some idle conversation.



“Wouldn’t it be great if we could all migrate away from the winter that’s on the way?” “I’ll be staying here to celebrate the holidays with my family,” she said. “I’d rather be home with them no matter how bad the winter gets.” We chatted for a while about the weather, the sunset, the children and the ducks.

She seemed like she was comfortable continuing our conversation. She was telling me how she was looking forward to spending Christmas with her grandchildren. She then wondered if this was the last Christmas she’d be able to spend with her family.

She said that she had some significant health issues. And then she told me she had cancer. I tried to offer as much concern and support a stranger could offer.

I said that I was sorry for her and wished her continued good health for as long as possible. She said that her cancer was fairly well advanced and that she was still undergoing treatment that involved chemotherapy and radiation. The woman on the bench looked out over the pond and mentioned how she’d be missing her family if the cancer cuts her life short.

I told her that being a compliant patient is important - and then to pray and hope for the best. Perhaps she’ll be one of the lucky ones to see her cancer reduced and to go into remission. Perhaps she’ll have many more Christmas holidays with her family.

Perhaps not. It’s hard to win battles against the inevitable. The sun had set and it was time for us to go.

The woman thanked me for spending time with her. I said that it was nice to have met her and wished her well. We never exchanged names and I knew that I would never see her again, but thoughts of this distressed woman have stayed with me over the years.

I wondered if that Christmas was the last one she was ever able to spend with her family. If the cancer did end her life prematurely, I wondered about the family – and the grandchildren - that were surely missing her. People like her can’t be replaced.

Then I thought about the many people who have stories similar to hers. Some have friends and family with whom they can share their fears, while others face their challenges alone. Some endure their concerns with faith and hope, while others are hopeless.

Some have a support system that helps them maintain their existence in the best way possible, but others have no such support. Life isn’t always fair, and it’s unfortunate to know that bad things sometimes happen to good people who don’t deserve those bad things. I once worked with a salesman who was diagnosed with a terminal illness at a relatively early age.

He was married and had young children. The illness was advancing and the medical treatment he was undergoing was not going to keep him alive for long – and he was aware of it. His pain was increasing and he was beginning to have some trouble walking.

He wanted to meet with me for what would prove to be our final conversation. Our meeting began with some awkwardness and some discomfort because I didn’t know exactly what to say to a person in the salesman’s situation. I felt sorry for him, but he wasn’t there to receive my pity.

He was there to share some advice. “My life is going to be a lot shorter than I thought it would be,” he said. “I’m trying to make the most of the time I have left.

I still have a family to care for and dreams that I’m trying to achieve. You don’t have my condition and most of your life is still ahead of you. My best advice to you is to get on with the business of living, because, if you don’t, you might as well be dying.

The life ahead of you is an opportunity. I can see that so clearly now. So, my friend, get out and do your best to make the most of that opportunity, whatever that may mean to you.

Do what you can to live the life you’re supposed to live.” And I’ve done what I could to follow that advice ever since. You should do the same while there’s still time.

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