Poison.

No, the title has nothing to do with the post. I swear.

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I was watching Patch Adams for the second time today, and the guy who was dying of Pancreatic cancer just keeps plaguing my mind. I imagine that tiny organ attached to the colon when I hear of the Pancreas. And it kills me because I've been reading an anatomy book finding out just what exactly it does. If you want to know, look it up. Knowledge is great, my friends.

But I digress.

Pancreatic cancer has a very high death rate. Meaning that if you have it or get it, the chances of your survival are slim. Apparantly it's also very painful for the most part. Sometimes I guess you are incapable of eating-I couldn't imagine, well, I could, but not being able to choose to eat-just not being able to, that would hurt.

During my Junior year of High School I took Chem 1. A year after most of my classmates had take it. I was considered an unfortunate soul because I had the teacher that everyone always said they wished she would die, or that she's a bitch, or other harmful things-poison in their words if you must. Mrs. Smith, for the record, was a very intelligent woman and expected us to be intelligent she wanted us to use our brains, not let them go to waste. Which is something I understand now.

One day after school in September I decided to stay after school and ask for help before the Marching Band rehearsal. I talked to this woman, the one who, on occasion, got on my nerves. But I learned a lot from her during this after-school session. Such as she had once been a college professor-hince her high expectations. And she too, had been in Marching Band, she played the Clarinet. But I also discovered that she was a nice woman, person, and human being. She just had a hard shell on the outside that you had to crack.

She shared wise words that I now will never forget as long as I live. She otld me that there will be some things in life that I will encounter and at first, not be able to solve. But that if I step back and check things out and really examine them closer and don't fret over the fine details I might find an easy answer.

At the time, I wasn't sure what that had to do with Chemistry-until later on in the year. When answers began being common sense to me. But starting around December she began missing a lot of school and we had subs for a few months straight. I found out when I asked Mr. Bailey about it, he told me that she had Pancreatic Cancer. I was shocked, and yet at the same time, I was hoping that there was hope for her, so I asked him what stage, and he said the fourth. If you know cancer stages you know that the fourth is right by the last stage-the fifth-and recovery at the fourth stage is rare-she was going to die. And I knew this. Not a lot of students found out until May though.

So, from December to May I listened to my classmates diss her, and I stood up for the absent teacher. I couldn't believe how cruel my classmates and other students were. I was ridiculed because I stood up for her. But I just told them that they didn't understand and they'd eat their words at a later date.

Mrs. Smith took the Envirothon team to their competition that year. She was back for two or three days and she excused those of us in her Chem classes from the lab that she held that day. But on the lab that we had had a few days before she was proud to tell me that I got a perfect lab score. AND that I had received a ninety six on the last test. She told me that she was proud of me.

When she graded my final Chem problem she told me that it was excellent that I had paid attention to the easy things and not skidded to a halt as so many of my classmates. There was an easy answer. Her words suddenly made sense about the different views.

The last time I saw Mrs. Darla Smith was in August, right before the start of my Senior year. I had told her that I was pregnant and was getting married. She told Shane & I that she hoped our lives were full of love, joy, and many good years. I think she knew she didn't have that much time left, she was looking forward to teaching as much as she could before she died. It was her passion, helping and teaching the students that so rudely commented behind her back about how mean she was when in all reality they didn't know her.

She was the only High School teacher that I had had as an educator that didn't get to sign my Sr. Book. I hate that she didn't get to, and I often wonder what she would've written given the opportunity. I had written her a letter the first time she was in the Hospital, but I never sent it. I wish now that I would've...god I wish I would've.

So, I guess my point here is that I heard on December 4th, 2006 that she had died that day. Everyone else just walked around not really knowing quite yet. I was a mess. She was a person and everyone (students) just acted like she never existed. I hope that when she left her suffering it was painless, that she went in her sleep. Because I believe that she was a fighter and she was a champion in the fact that she never let it show that it was getting to her that she was dying. She embraced her life that she lived before she died.

I want to live like that. I want to live so that when I die I can say I truly did everything that I wanted to. That I was an inspiration without knowing it. I want to live to the fullest and be joyful up until my last breath.

If you have a letter you have written and never sent, send it. There might now be a later for you to send it in.

The things movies make you think of.