A lady in the crowd
Death is Inevitable.
A series of unfortunate events has been going on for almost a year. It's the type of problem where there's nothing I can do about it. All I can do is wait and see what happens next. When someone has cancer there's nothing anybody can do. Sometimes even the most intelligent Doctors and even medications can't undue the harm of cancer. The worst part is that I can be as upset as I want, I can cry a river of tears, or I can pray for a miracle- but nothing else could be done because cancer is irreversible.
Our cross country coach, Jesus Rojas, has been suffering stage 4 internal cancer since the end of our previous season. He's in his mid seventies and has a tan complexion and skinny figure. The offspring of cancer was apparent to my grandma who happens to be a nurse. She assumed that my coach showed all of the signs but I was filled with denial until it was too late. His visits to the doctor grew more frequent, he lost weight and soon he began to look like a skeleton in many ways. His skin tone turned ghostly white and the color in his flesh turned pale. Our beloved Coach was once a young healthy runner who was three seconds away from reaching Olympic times in Track and Field. Now cancer is slowly destroying his system and his will to live.
I know how it feels like to lose a family member to cancer and I don't want to go through that again.
I'm very accepting that death is inevitable. Yet death shouldn't be like this. No one should die in agony and they shouldn't go through the pain chemo-therapy offers or it's negative side-effects. The truth is Cancer strikes and attacks anybody. Babies, kids, teens, adults, elders, my Aunt Reyna, and Jesus Rojas.
Tragic Wars, terrorist attacks, and massacres have killed many but cancer is a silent murderer who kills millions of innocent people too.
Tomorrow Coach Rojas is coming to our first cross country practice of the season. I visited him two weeks ago for a meeting and he doesn't appear to be getting better. In all honesty he looks weaker and I noticed that he wore his hat to hide his bald head. Coach Rojas sat down almost the entire time, because he doesn't have enough energy to stand up for too long. I proposed an idea that our team should have morning practice at 5:30 AM instead of 6AM. He told me that his heavy medication makes it hard for him to wake up early but he agreed to my proposal.
I'm not sure why he's determined to continue being head-coach or if he has enough strength to be at practice. I'm sure he wants to continue feeling useful and productive. As humans we all want our lives to have purpose but once cancer weakens us, we question if our lives still have a meaning.
Ready or not he's going to rise and shine tomorrow morning. As I watch Coach Rojas join our team tomorrow it's going to hard to not get emotional. My teammate Ceci and I shed a few tears last time we saw him. We know he might never be the same again.