Voices of Cholangiocarcinoma: #4 A Best Friends Voice.

My Old Comfortable Pair of Shoes

Dorien asked me to share some thoughts about what Kyle’s cancer experience has been like from the perspective of a friend.  Seems like a simple enough request but quite frankly it’s complicated.  I think to better understand how I have been dealing with Kyle’s diagnosis and treatment you have to have a little background on our friendship.  So, I take you back to Granite Park Jr. High when a gangly kid showed up as a transfer from Union Middle School (that was Kyle).  We seemed to gravitate together despite the fact we were a bit of an odd couple with Kyle topping 6 feet tall and me standing tall at 5 feet (if I was wearing two inch heels).  Just in case anyone thinks I may be exaggerating for effect I have included a photo of our GPJH volleyball team where I am standing right in front of Kyle…as far as growing I was pacing myself!

Kyle and I grew closer as friends during our high school years as we played: football, baseball and basketball together at Granite High.  I could write pages and pages about our escapades during our high school years but just in case the statute of limitations has not run on some of our actions I will omit the details.  I spent many days and nights at Kyle’s home and he at mine.  We spent our time playing sports, going to $1.00 Tuesday movies at the Mann 5-6-7 theatre, backpacking in the Uintah Mountains and talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up.  They were great years and served as the foundation of the solid friendship that we enjoy today.

Kyle, who was a year ahead of me in school, graduated and headed off to college and a year later, as I was graduating, was called to serve a LDS mission to Milan, Italy (which coincidentally is where Kyle met his true best friend, his wife Dorien).  After Kyle had been out on his mission for a year I began my LDS mission service in Seoul, Korea. We exchanged letters faithfully during the course of our missions and shortly after my return Kyle married his best friend and sweetheart Dorien.  I was the best man at his wedding and 9 months later he was the best man at my wedding.

We drifted in and out of one another’s lives for the next 20 years or so exchanging Christmas cards, talking periodically with an occasional lunch mixed in.  Sometimes years would pass between our conversations yet we would pick up right where we left off.  It was as if time and frequency of contact had no effects on our friendship.  The best way I can describe the friendship that I have with Kyle is to compare it to an old comfortable pair of shoes.  Now that may seem odd but you all know that you have that pair of shoes in your closet right now that fits your foot perfectly.  Over the years you have tried out other pairs of shoes that may be more flashy or expensive yet when you have to take a long walk or work in the yard you go back to that old comfortable pair of shoes.  And, when you slip them back on your foot it’s as if you never took them off.  Kyle is my old pair of comfortable shoes.  They are always there for me waiting patiently, never jealous…always faithful.  I love them…I need them.

Now I don’t want to romanticize the relationship that Kyle and I have.  We never had a Jerry McGuire “you complete me” moment, nor did we steal away under the old sycamore tree as kids and use a rusty pocket knife to stab our fingers and make blood oaths to one another to always be there.  In fact our relationship is such that none of these things ever had to be spoken they were just understood.

So nearly a year ago when I received a call from Kyle letting me know of his diagnosis and worse yet his prognosis I went through a whole range of emotions:  anger because he was so young, fear of losing my good friend and hopelessness in the fight against a cancer enemy that never sleeps.  Interestingly enough I also felt gratitude for my relationship with Kyle, I felt compassion for his beautiful wife and family, I felt an incredibly sense of perspective of what is truly important in life and I felt an overwhelming desire to love and to help however I could. 

I committed myself at that point that my rallying cry would be “no regrets” as I did what I could to help my friend.  I have no idea how long I am going to be able to be with my friend…it may be months or it may be years.  But, when Kyle does move on to his next assignment I am committed to have no regrets.  There will be no words left unspoken, no regrets about not spending enough time with him.  In the past I would have passing thoughts about giving Kyle a call or going to lunch and then would get busy with life and let the thought slip away.  Now, when I have those thoughts I call or we go to lunch.  When I start to think “I am too busy to make a chemo visit this week” I remember that my old faithful pair of shoes are not going to be around forever…and I go to chemo.

I know in the long term that my friend will be fine.  There is not a kinder soul on this earth nor one with a more generous heart.  The heavens will welcome him home when it is time.  I also weep bitterly for all of us that remain behind that will soldier on through life’s experiences without our old comfortable shoes.  I selfishly want to fill my canteen with Kyle memories and experiences so I can weather the drought that will inevitably come.  I would encourage everyone who reads this blog post to consider a “no regrets” policy with your loved ones.  They may not be named Kyle Nielson and they may not have stage 4 cancer, but they will not always be around so please don’t take them for granted.  Make the call to that estranged sibling that you have not talked to in years, tell your best friend that you love them and don’t be afraid to offer forgiveness generously.

My friend is dying…I can mope and feel sorry for him, and myself or I can make hay while the sun shines.  I choose the latter and I hope that you will too.

I love you buddy!

That’s what I’ve got for today.