Susan Dennis (susandennis) wrote,
Susan Dennis
susandennis

When being different is difficult

When I lay dying, I cannot imagine I will want to hook up with friends I haven't seen in 30 years. And I'm pretty sure I'm in the minority there. My old boss (IBM Real Estate days) just called me. For the first time ever since I worked for him. In the end, you just go dig up people from past lives. No me, but apparently it's a thing. He called to tell me that my friend, Earl, is dying. Earl had written after Christmas that he had anal cancer but was beating it and on the mend.

Joe says he never was beating it and now he's facing surgery where they will likely 'cut him open and then just bag him'. According to Joe, he's depressed and can't even find out when this surgery will be. Joe suggests I call him. And gave me his phone number.

Outside of the fact that I hate talking on the phone, I really don't like talking to Earl on a good day. Back 30 years ago, when we were friends, he was fine and fun but the older he got the crabbier he got and we moved so far away from being on the same page that we don't even go to the same library. I last saw him 30 years ago and since then, we've swapped Christmas emails and sometimes birthdays but nothing more.

I don't doubt for a minute that he would enjoy getting a call from me. What I doubt is my ability to make the call. I would not want to get such a call. I don't want to talk to him. And I feel so guilty about it that I probably will call tomorrow.
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