Holy Mackerel

I went out for dinner with my friend Slut the other evening. That's her new name. Slut. It used to be Pick, as in Pickerel, as in the fish. Now it's Slut. She's very nosy as well, so I could very well call her Nosy, but Slut is just much more appropriate. I suppose I could call her Nosy Slut. Or Slutty Nose. Something to think about. Why? I don't know. It just is. Well, there's actually a story behind it, but it's really too long and inane to go into here. Besides, it doesn't really matter because, chances are, she is a slut, and I just don't know it yet. I've known Slut for about 11 years now. Amazing, really. We met at CHEO when our sons were both diagnosed with cancer. Her son had leukemia, mine had neuroblastoma. Cancer is cancer. The same shock, the same terror coursing through every mother's system as they helplessly watch the poisonous chemo make its way through their children's tiny bodies, and hope that this is all just a terrible...

I am at such a loss for words today, which for those of you who know me, know that is a very rare occurrence indeed. My heart goes out to one of my best friends who is losing his wife. She is losing her fight, and it's been a long fight. This moment has been in the background of all our minds for a few years now, but it's still a huge shock and a massive feeling of loss and disaster just the same. I won't go into details about his situation because it's not my place here. I just wanted to say that this friend of mine is one my dearest and oldest friends. And at this moment, I feel so lost, so powerless, so useless. And I wish I could just make it all good again for him. Because if there's one person in this world who deserves that, it's him.