It's a shock. Because I'd seen him at an event less than a month ago and he looked as healthy as I'd seen him in a long time.
I've known him for the 17 years of his recovery, since he first came to TLC.
Prior to that, the story is that he lived naked in the desert shooting meth.
He worked for TLC for several years repairing air-conditioners and helping out. Then he got a better job, married, and moved some 30 miles away.
I planned to call him after the meeting. But I procrastinate, doing other things. Maybe I don't know what to say, perhaps a little apprehensive. I finally pick up the phone later in the afternoon.
When he answers he sounds like he always does, upbeat and positive.
He talks about visiting the emergency room a few days earlier when they discovered his cancer.
He's matter-of-fact as he tells me what the doctors said about having less than a year to live. Then he talks about his plans to fight because he says he didn't get sober just to die. He has a list of things he's going to do to change the outcome. Before we hang up he says he'll keep me updated.
Afterward, I feel better for having called. I feel powerless because I have nothing to say that would help him. Something magic to give him.
Perhaps letting people know we care is all we can do.
