We got an e-mail yesterday asking us to contribute to a donation for a fellow employee. She's been on disability for 2 months. She has under 2 years to live, but no one will talk out loud about the fact that she's d-y-i-n-g. It's all innuendos - very hush, hush. She was cheerful, a little mischievous and sometimes a little pesky. She was the first person here who made me feel 'at home' in my new job. She was here one day and the next thing we knew, she was having her spleen removed. I think about how awful it must be for her - she has grandchildren and children she's leaving behind. But then I think she's really been very lucky to have those children and she's been to Ireland and led a very active life. So who knows if checking out early is really a bad thing? I wonder if she's afraid. Depressed? Does she even know the prognosis? And who the hell is going to take her place? And why do we have to spend so much of our life working?
She's often in a pair of dark knit slacks with a sweatshirt from Ireland or one that says, 'Ask Me About My Grandchildren.' Maybe now she's wearing one that says 'Don't Ask Me How I'm Doing. I'm Dying'.
