I learned yesterday that Scott, the husband of my good friend Betsy, finally succumbed to lung cancer (he was not a smoker) at the premature age of 33.
I can’t be nearly as eloquent as Phoebe, but it would be perverse for me not to post something of what little I know of Scott. I met him on two occasions, in early 2008 and in early 2009. He was friendly, kind, and seemed determined to live what he had left of his life as he would have done otherwise, taking as little notice of what was coming as possible.
When I visited him in February of this year (perhaps close to the beginning of the end), he was in particularly bad shape. Regardless, he insisted on accompanying Betsy and I to Fry’s, and on hearing that I had never had a cheese steak, on accompanying us there. I mentioned that I was looking for a laptop, and so he spent some time showing me various models. He had long accepted that his life was to be shorter than it should have been, and (to my faint unease) repeatedly joked about it in my presence.
Betsy and he both put his defying of prognosis down to his refusal to let his life end with his diagnosis. He refused to pass until he was forced to, being given fewer than six months to live. Scott politely ignored his prognosis and went on to survive for three years. He was extraordinarily brave, and extraordinarily strong. He left this world with dignity and grace, and on his own terms.
I am almost as much in awe of Betsy’s handling of the situation. Betsy spent three years of her life, including about six months when she should have been looking for a job, looking after Scott, maximising his comfort, consoling him and supporting him until his eventual passing. Betsy, like Scott, has showed her courage and strength through Scott’s illness.
My thoughts and love are with Scott’s family, and especially with Betsy. I wish Betsy luck in rebuilding her life, and that she has Scott’s strength in continuing along her path without him, even though his has ended too soon.
In solidarity, remembrance and love,
Andrew