Letter from a Friend

The words slipped as easily off the keyboard as any others in the perfect democracy of QWERTY, but landed heavily. "rare disease that has affected my lungs has reached my heart". She didn't say she was dying, but death swirled into the room while the music in the far room played a cheerful pop tune that conjured images of a red flowered chintz curtain blowing in a summer breeze. I wanted not to have read those words, but they sat there. They could not be ignored any more than the sarcoidosis.

The rules of engagement do not require that we be introduced to the likely agent of our demise, but, once having been introduced, we are somehow obliged to treat this uninvited acquaintance with some civility.

My friend has a team of 8 doctors involved in her complex care and good friends and family, so what can I contribute from so very far away? I hesitate, my hands on the keyboard, and then I send a little description of the view from my window where there is neither sarcoidosis nor hospital memories.