Last year my never-smoked-in-her-life, clean-living, yoga-practicing, organic-food eating friend and coworker, C., was diagnosed with stage-4 lung cancer. Cancer, however, didn't know who he was messing with, and C. kicked his butt. She is strong: a beautiful, tall, Indian warrior-woman in a Super-Girl cape with a smile that knocks you over and a fierce, loving heart. The doctors said they'd never seen such an amazing recovery from stage-4. Life slowly got back to normal, she came back to work and we could breathe again.
And then couple of weeks ago, C. was eating dinner while watching television, and suddenly the TV tilted in one direction and her right arm wasn't working as it should. For fear of being a hypochondriac, she didn't think much of it and didn't mention it to anyone other than her husband for a week or so, until she casually mentioned it to her general practitioner during a routine visit. He suggested setting up an MRI appointment, just to be safe. The appointment still several days away, C. had another "incident" yesterday; she felt, she said, like her brain wasn't communicating with her body as it should, and her right arm began to spasm. Her husband said "That's it. We are not waiting for your appointment," put her in the car and drove her to town.
At the emergency room the doctor performed some tests and based on her delayed responses and disorientation, called for a CAT scan. The results showed swelling in the brain, which, they informed her was "not good" considering her status as a lung-cancer patient. An MRI was performed and it came back showing two tumors. Her lung cancer has spread to her brain.
If you are a believer, the praying type, please send up a message for my friend. She's going to need all the love and support and prayers she can get.