My friend Tami and I went out in search of effervescence Sunday afternoon and we found it exactly where I knew it had been all along.
Conditions may have dimmed the light on the actual Effervescent Installation at the Weidner Center — a few too many clouds, a deflated set of balloons — but the spirit of positive energy bubbled up anyway.
It always does from Tami. She says yes to almost any adventure I propose and, though she is the queen of wry, witty observations, she never complains.
Tami’s effervescence has been challenged in ways that would have deflated a lesser human being. She has taught me a whole lexicon of medical terminology we’d certainly rather not have known.
The first lesson was Lynch Syndrome, a genetic predisposition to certain cancers. In the years since she first received that diagnosis, she has battled several cancers.
The most recent involves a body part I can neither spell nor pronounced and never even knew we humans had.
I learned she had this particular cancer when I called to see if she wanted to go for a walk and discovered she was in the hospital.
I popped over to see her and she greeted me with remarkable good cheer.
“I had a Whipple,” she said, which sounded far, far more fun than it actually was. Tami could not believe I had never heard of a Whipple procedure.
“Don’t you watch Grey’s Anatomy?” she asked.
I had not, so I Googled and discovered that my friend’s poor organs had suffered through a traumatic pruning and shuffling.
As brutal as that surgery is, its recovery is even worse and Tami had to battle through that and then undergo chemo and radiation.
Through all of that — the overwhelming nausea, the exhaustion, the previously delicious food that tasted terrible following her surgery, the maternal worry about the genetic transfer of this troubling syndrome — Tami still made me laugh at least once during every conversation I had with her.
My stomach churned when I thought about everything she faced and I marveled at her strength. While I fretted about the unfairness of her situation, she never did.
Wallowing takes a lot of energy and Tami reserved hers for the battle to getting back to her busy, social, athletic, happy, altruistic, wanderlusting life.
I am happy to report that she is currently on the mend. She can taste and toast and play pickle ball at full strength these days. While she still has the second half of her radiation treatments to go, she is looking forward to the continued reclamation of her health.
So, while I’m grateful for the opportunity to see Atelier Sisu’s temporary Effervescent Display at the Weidner Center, I am even more grateful for the consistent display of Effervescence I get to enjoy from my friend and neighbor.
May she continue to enjoy a life as bubbly and beautiful as she is.
(Though she gave me the okay to write this piece, Tami is absolutely opposed to having her picture taken. So, please enjoy this pictures of our outing, which feature her spirit if not her sillhouette.)




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Beautifully written piece about a very beautiful person. ❤️❤️
Loved this compassionate piece! My husband went through chemo and radiation in 2015 with his testicular cancer. It is a tough journey. Prayers for Tami as she faces the demon!