As you get older the odds are higher, or say they say.  The older your group of friends are the more likely you are to experience not just divorce, but disease in your immediate circle.

A lot of my friends have been through divorces but it’s never really been a big deal to me. Maybe because my own parents divorced when I was a child I never thought of divorce as such an “out there” thing to happen. Except maybe for T and J, friends of ours for whom I was Matron of Honour and Mr Pencil was Best Man and they split 6 weeks after their wedding. That was a bit of a shock.

But disease is another thing altogether. Disease happens to my parent’s contemporaries. Older people.

Until I realise that the people I am thinking about as “older people” are actually people my age. I AM older. I’m not the child anymore and nor are my parents in their 50’s anymore like I picture them in my mind’s eye .

Recently an acquaintance  of ours was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma, but  because we were friendly when Little Pencil was very young and we hardly see them anymore it didn’t seem to close. And maybe it didn’t seem so bad because, although I know it is a cancer, the name didn’t have the dreaded “C word” in it.

But then on the weekend I got an email from a friend of mine. Admittedly I don’t see her as much as I used to (insert very busy and different lives) but in my mind she is my age, her older son is Little Pencil’s age and I remember well when she brought her youngest baby home from the hospital.   She wrote to me that she had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and was having her breast and lymph nodes removed this week.

I touched my breasts in reflex.  I went through my mind searching for symptoms.

Not only was my friend the same age as me (almost, she is actually 4 years older) but we were very much the same in terms of neuroses and paranoia.  Cancer is something we dreaded happening, not something that actually happened. It was the thing we almost joked about when we had a new bout of hypochondriasis.

I stilled my tears as I read her long email which was written so much like she speaks. Nothing was different. EXCEPT SHE HAD CANCER.

The morning of her surgery she sent an email to her friends listing all the things she was grateful for – including her family and the wonder that is first world modern medicine.

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I wish you could all go visit her. She’s beautiful. And brave. And FUNNY!

I asked her what make up she was using these days because she looks about 24 (BB Cream) , she told me about her drainage bag (made by the Girl Guides) and I stood outside when the nurses cleaned her drains.  We chatted about work and ageing and vanity and kids and cancer and how amazing it is that one day after having her breast removed she is off morphine and taking panadol only for the pain.

We spoke about how sometimes the reality of a situation is so much easier to handle than the hideous fantasies that play out in our heads.  How we torture ourselves with our thoughts and we don’t give ourselves credit for our strength.  In her thoughts a breast cancer diagnosis would have spelt death. In reality we were laughing about the fact that she was on Panadol.

She has a long way to go and she knows that – chemotherapy, radiation, adjusting to life without her right breast but she is still beautiful and despite what she may think she is showing tremendous bravery.  And she will get through it.

Maybe growing older brings a perspective we never knew when we were younger.

Maybe getting older allows us to appreciate what we have a little bit more

Maybe writing a letter of gratitude for all that you have instead of all that you want is a gift that comes with age.

Maybe age gives you strength to deal with the reality rather than panic in your mind.

Maybe I still have a lot to learn.