It's been quite a while since we checked in on our friend Kristy Dusseau in Michigan.
When last we checked in on Kristy -- who's fighting an ongoing battle with the aftereffects of the bone-marrow transplant that saved her from a rare, virulent form of leukemia -- she was back in the hospital. Since, she has been in and out of the hospital . . . then out for a long time, and able to move into a house with a good friend.
TO GET YOU caught up, here's the back story.
Yet again. Can you even begin to imagine?
Begin to imagine, if you will, the psychological toll . . . the physical toll . . . the financial toll and every other possible toll. Whenever I think of Kristy Dusseau, I flash back to the Old Testament book of Job. Sure enough, today's first reading at Mass was from . . . Job:
Is not man's life on earth a drudgery? Are not his days those of a hireling?
He is a slave who longs for the shade, a hireling who waits for his wages.
So I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been told off for me.
If in bed I say, "When shall I arise?" then the night drags on; I am filled with restlessness until the dawn.
My flesh is clothed with worms and scabs; my skin cracks and festers;
My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle; they come to an end without hope.
Remember that my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.
AND HERE I SIT, fancying myself miserable as I fight the beginnings of what promises to be a nasty head cold -- eating hot soup, sucking on zinc lozenges, inhaling nose spray and sipping on double-strength hot toddies I've dubbed "cold hooch."
Yeah, right. I'm sufferin', man. You bet.
I've said it before, and I'll keep on saying it: You wouldn't wish any of what Kristy has suffered on your worst enemy. You just wouldn't.
If you have a second, perhaps you'd like to say a prayer for Kristy. I suspect she really could use all of those she can get.