It was two weeks ago when I last spoke to my friend Jen. She had been admitted to the hospital due to difficulty breathing thanks to a pneumonia that just wouldn’t clear up. Her x-ray showed suspicious shadows in her lungs and they worried about lung cancer. She was a non-smoker. At the time the two of us chatted, they’d determined that most, if not all, of the marks were blood clots and put her on blood thinners. She was cautiously optimistic that would solve her issues and I was as well. I was busy the following day and didn’t talk to her, one those times where I remembered to connect with her at inopportune times like while I was in a group or on the phone. But I knew I could talk to her in the morning. I will regret that decision for the rest of my life because that was when she stopped breathing and was quickly placed on life support. She never regained consciousness and died 10 days after entering the ICU. Twelve days after we last spoke. At that point she told me she was tired when she exerted herself. I can’t speak for anyone else but, I too, get tired when I exert myself. I was hoping she’d be home soon. Less than two weeks from talking with her to writing my condolences to her family on her Facebook page. I can’t believe she’s gone.
I met Jen at a Women’s Wellness group seven years ago when we realized we took the same bus. We didn’t have much in common but that didn’t stop us from chattering the whole time. We were in the same social recreation group as well. I looked forward to seeing her each time.
Jen loved playing Pokemon Go and had the game open almost always. She was a huge wrestling fan and loved hockey as well. She was a devout pagan and was strongly connected with her community. And she loved her pups, first Zoe and then Bailey. They were her fur babies and she was devoted to them. Regular trips to the local pup cafe, pictures for all the holidays, and getting groomed complete with a bandanna. All of which were posted on Facebook.
Jen came to my Pride party back in 2022, which was held in the party room as there were too many people for my apartment. It wasn’t until after she’d left that we realized she’d never seen my apartment. Next time, she promised. More recently we, along with a mutual friend, wanted to meet for lunch when it got warmer. It’s warmer now.
I’ve lost friends due to a myriad of reasons. Hit by a drunk driver, bone infection after hip transplant, cancer, complications from psoriatic arthritis, and everyone’s favourite, “You’re not sick, you just need to lose weight”. And now I’ve got drug resistant unknown infection.
Every spring and autumn I pull out my almost twenty year old cat sweater and see the pin Jen gave me, a rainbow pin with a cat and the word “Purride”. I pick up my keys and notice the crazy cat lady keychain. And when I sit at my desk, a metal disk with the words “think PAWS-itive” on one side and “live in the meow” on the other, also courtesy of Jen.
I know the common refrain of “life’s not fair” but it really isn’t. She should have had so many more years. Goodbye Jen, seven years wasn’t nearly long enough to know you.
Because I'm Fabulous 
I’m sorry for your loss! Jen sounds like a wonderful friend.
Thank you