by Kate Diday
After going to the theater with friends to see the documentary N.E.D., I came home and hugged my kids (my sister's nieces), perhaps tighter then I ever had before. The film brought out emotions that I'd buried away, deep enough that when roused, brought tears and perhaps too much familiarity, considering the passage of time. I guess that's the mark of a well done film. A film that I'd like to see go viral (though, I wouldn't suggest it for a date night). The intent of the documentary was to raise awareness for gynecologic cancers. It followed gynecologic oncologist doctors, both as practicing physicians and musicians. In the latter role, they were bringing awareness and healing; the former, depicted the reality of the disease that so randomly, yet decisively, kills over 14,000 women in the US every year. What are the odds, that 1 of those 14,000 could be your child's godmother? Their aunt? Your sister at the age of 41... It happened to us in 2008, which is precisely why I embraced my kids so tightly when I came home. As I left the theater tonight, my friend was distributing pamphlets with the warning signs of ovarian cancer, I graciously declined. She knew that I was well aware already, having learned from loss (as did she with the loss of her mom). Hug your kids, talk to your siblings, raise a toast with a girlfriend... make some noise in honor of Eileen. I only wish that we'd known the signs... On a lighter note, my nine year old reminded me that "at least Aunt Eileen is having a good time in heaven." With that, I'm certain, she made her godmother smile!
Reposted with permission from generationforty.blogspot.com