That last season...

    So similar, if irony is not your word choice. She was here, as usual then for weekends and extended holidays.  She was just 10 years out, as was the term used, and of course was undergoing regular checkups. Her bloodwork had been drawn earlier in the month, and she was awaiting the results. That was the only thing she ever complained about, what she most hated---the wait. So far, all her tests over the years had shown no problems, but as they say, you never know.  So she had the right to be concerned, and so did we.
     Christmas came and went with everything in place, and so did New Years. The morning after that holiday, we were preparing to go shopping. We did so almost every week, but this was the day we were to buy each other what we wanted for Christmas., and for her birthday which was just a few days ago. And there would be sales aplenty. We were almost out the door when the phone rang. It was P. calling from her home phone. He had received a call from her oncologist, asking her to contact him. She did so instantly and learned that the test results were ominous. When you survive certain types of cancer, there is (or anyway used to be) a blood test measuring tumor markers. Elevated markers are, they told us over the years, not definitive, are not reliable measures of cancer progression. But the early morning call, indicating the need  for more testing, told us the results were not insignificant. So we abandoned our shopping and lunch trip, and she returned to her  home to face what came next.
    I don't know if the findings had only become known to her doctor the workday morning after the extended holiday, or if he, in his compassion, had decided to give her the freedom to enjoy one last holiday season. She fought hard, earning his admiration, and survived a few more Christmas seasons, but the joy was gone for us.