It's been an eye opening couple of weeks since I last wrote.

My wife went in for a colonoscopy and in the process, a polyp was removed. The biopsy revealed cancer, so the recommended course of action was a colon resection. Of course, there were a multitude of additional diagnostic tests which needed to be done before the operation, including a sigmoidoscopy to determine where the polyp was and to tattoo the location for the next surgeon. Of course, this all meant that flushing and cleaning had to occur 3 times, a process that's almost worse than the laparoscopic surgery itself.

Everything went well, and what they discovered was stage one rectal cancer, so we are quite happy that it's gone and no further chemo or radiation are necessary.

This does cause a sudden change in ones outlook however. Charlotte is now a cancer survivor. Although she has thankfully not experienced the protracted post operative care that would have been necessary had the cancer progressed past stage one, the cloud of future care is around us. We must suddenly be vigilant, with frequent exams and an awareness of day to day health that was not there before.

In more youthful times, I can remember not understanding the age related failings of the older generation. These things will not happen to me, sayeth I. But guess what. Regardless of your intent to continue in your youthful ways, they happen anyways. I have come to realize that at night, I can no longer see beyond the approaching headlights as I used to. Nor am I able to work for 8 hours cutting wood in the forest and come home to party into the proverbial wee hours. In fact, I don't really want to party into those wee hours even after an afternoon nap.

The trick is to accept the change without altering your outlook. The way I feel about things and the intensity of my reactions has not changed. I am beginning to understand that they never will. How old you are, or your physical ability to deal, doesn't alter your mental reactions to your environment. This is a phenomenon commonly misunderstood by youth. How could an eighty five year old want a corvette, or for that matter a fifty year old mate? Well, don't let the age thing fool you. Age doesn't change what you want. It only sometimes impacts your ability to achieve the desired end.

On Friday, October 30, 2009, an old friend of ours died at the local hospital. Years of difficult breathing and other health problems finally took their toll and his heart gave up the battle. He was there for a problem other than heart, and his death was a horrid and sudden surprise to us all even though he was not a healthy person. We are saddened by his passing.

But sadness isn't the only emotion here. I had not seen him for several years, but this unexpected event has brought back memories I forgot I had. There are no bad ones. Only the laughter and foolishness has survived. The dumb things we did and managed to live and laugh through, the every day occurrences and the special events we all enjoyed - that's what I can remember now.

This sadness for today and happy remembrance of the past is a curious combination. One minute we laugh about some goofy incident and the next there is a silence occupied only by pensive thoughts. I guess it's all part of the grieving process. The mind doesn't want to accept such awful change so it searches for lightness to make the process easier. I have found myself laughing out loud about traits my friend had or things that we did, and at first there was a short pang of guilt afterwards. But not now. He would be laughing too were he still here, and as the days pass I am less likely to suppress a gutty chuckle when a quick memory flips by.

There will be a memorial service tomorrow at the church next door to his house. We will go and give our last respects, and there will be a gathering afterwards in the church basement. It will be the same curious combination, only magnified by the number of people there, and we will come away feeling better about the sad occasion which brought us all together.

My friend will never come back, but the memories will. And they're all good ones too.