This was an odd weekend for me and I'm feeling the effects of whiplash. Sunday stands in stark contrast to Saturday. We received a phone call from the one friend in Los Angeles with whom we've stayed in touch for the past 11 years. She told us she has breast cancer and needs to have her right breast removed.
Granted, this is an all-too-frequent form of cancer and God only knows how many breasts have been lopped off as a result. It's still enough to throw you into a stupor when it's someone close to you, either a family member or close friend.
She was trying to keep her chin up as she made the occasional joke about it. Another of her friends told her they'd still love her just the same because it would still be her. Personally, I can't imagine that needing to even be said or reinforced. Of course it's still her! I said, "it's just that you'll be losing a few pounds, that's all."
But this is serious shit. It's very different from losing a few pounds. This is losing a body part, although not as essential as a hand or a foot, I can imagine a woman's breasts (both of them) are an integral part of her body, and losing one must require a tremendous amount of courage and a major mindset adjustment. I sure as hell would be freaking out if I was told I needed to lose a testicle. Not that I need it, but I sure do like having them hanging around.
I think her doctors wanted to remove it soon. She insisted on waiting until mid-November because, as she put it, "I want to be able to walk into that voting booth on election day and cast my vote." She also needs time to get herself psyched up for the procedure.
I can understand that feeling but I'm wondering if that's the best decision she could make. It has me worried. She just turned 51 last week. What a surprise she got.
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