Tough blog coming up. Had a great day with the kids today in Hollywood. It was a class field trip to visit the famous historical places in Tinseltown. Lots of fun even though the weather was quite hot. Got home to receive a tearful phone call from Mom. Seems my dear Aunt Martha, who has been battling cancer for the past three years, had emergency surgery today to relieve some of the fluid accumulating in her lungs. She had trouble breathing over the weekend and luckily Mom happened to be in Texas (where my extended family lives) for my cousin's birthday party and was able to rush Aunt Martha to the hospital. It's hard to say if the surgery was successful or not. They were able to drain the fluid; however, the doctor said they found lots of cancer in the lining of her lungs, a common side effect of ovarian cancer. He said it was so bad that they didn't even bother using chemo on it, her lungs were so deformed. There's not much they can do for her now. We'll know in the morning, hopefully, what the prognosis is.

It's sad to think of losing a wonderful Aunt of mine. She's the oldest sister in my Mom's family and Mom and all her sisters really look up to Aunt Martha as a role model. Since my Mom was sixteen when her mother died (of cancer), Aunt Martha became the matriarch of the family. She's a hell-of-a strong woman and she is a fighter. She's had a lot of hard knocks in her life -- cancer was just the latest -- but she's always come through like a champion. Like my Mom told me today, "I just never considered that she wouldn't beat [the cancer]."

Aunt Martha hasn't given up yet, but she was giving hints over the weekend that the fight may soon be over. Mom mentioned that a few times Aunt Martha made comments about what to do "after I'm gone" or "if anything happens to me." Maybe her doctor had told her the cancer was getting worse, or maybe she just knew it, felt it. It's hard to imagine what it must be like to have another organism living within you and consuming your body. It's even harder to imagine that no matter what you do or how hard you try, you just can't stop it.

I love my Aunt Martha. She's really taught me a lot over the years, about life, about hard work, about making difficult choices, always doing your best, and never giving up. She's a champion. Perhaps she's just tired of the struggle. Her quality of life has been deteriorating drastically the past couple of years. The ironic thing is that Mom said she was looking so good these days. Her hair was growing back, and she'd lost almost thirty pounds since the bloating caused by the most recent chemo. Everyone at the birthday mentioned how good she looked. But she was keeping a secret, and she insisted my Mom help keep the secret. The secret was that she couldn't breathe. Her lungs were being drained every day by the doctors, but still the fluid came back. She was also in a great deal of pain and discomfort. Mom said she couldn't sleep lying down anymore, so she had to sleep sitting up in a chair or propped up with pillows on the couch. I don't blame her for wanting this life to end. Having your fingernails fall off because of chemo and your eyes constantly overflowing with tears because the bloating has squeezed your tear ducts shut are just two minor examples of a pretty miserable way to live.

I feel sorry for my Mom who is suddenly so afraid of losing her big sister. "It's so unfair," she told me. It is unfair. It's damn unfair. Mom is making plans to return to Texas as soon as necessary. Depending on how long my Aunt Martha has left, Mom may even put her things in storage and move to Texas for a while to take care of Aunt Martha. For some reason, I don't think it's going to be that long now. I hate to sound pessimistic, but this is something I've been trying to prepare myself for, ever since she was diagnosed a few years ago.

I've had the great pleasure of seeing Aunt Martha a few times in the past couple of years, at times when she was fit as a fiddle, and at other times when she was really struggling. She was even here in LA a little less than a year ago for a meeting. We had a nice dinner in Hollywood. I hate to think that may be the last time I'll ever see her. I hate to think of anytime that might be the last time I'll ever see her.

I hope she feels better again soon. And I hope I get to see her at least one more time. I don't know what I would tell her. Except that I love her. What else matters?

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