It was a really nice weekend, though, with the highlight being that I got to spend a little time with my incredibly amazing cousin, Paul, who elicited more belly laughs in a few hours than I've had all month. His can describe anything in a way that brings humor to the surface and can make even the hardest nut crack into laughter. I don't think I've known anyone as funny, ever. This is made even more amazing by the fact that he is living with a serious cancer right now, receiving heavy-duty treatment and dealing with all the effects. Yet he has the grace and kindness to say to me "My pain is managed by the meds, it's nothing like what you have," or about the fatigue "I know you understand." Really? No, Paul, the strength you are showing is way out of my league.
I firmly believe you can't compare individual suffering -- pain and hurt are distinctly individual things -- but in this case I am pretty sure Paul is being his usual self-less self in diminishing his own discomfort. I swear from the bottom of my soul if I could take his cancer on so he would be well I would do it in a heartbeat. Only then would I truly know the pain and suffering he is going through. I am plagued by the feeling of uselessness of my own life in comparison to the meaning of his life to his family, friends, clients, coworkers. I am having trouble accepting the entire situation. Daily. As he hits the chemo chair for yet another round of treatment, my thoughts are not that far away from MGH. Love on ya, Pally.
No one can know another's pain. It strikes me as unjust and cruel that someone so dynamic, loving, and loved by others must endure this while others, who care so little for people, do not. Maybe feeling this way is a rare pain that other people can know and agree with.