My BFF called.

“I have breast cancer.” 

Her words came between sobs.

I was quiet on the other end.

What do I say to that?

Me of many words!

I said nothing.

She was too young, only fifty.  

Why her?

She paid her dues with her crap childhood.

This wasn’t “fair.”

I decided not to cry.

She needed something else.

She needed some strength, some positive words.

“I’m coming. 

We’ll get through this.  

I’ll stay with you 

I’ll be your nurse.”

“I want you to come now, before the surgery.

Not after.”

“OK. Here I come.”

When we hung up, my strength and positive thoughts disappeared and I cried the rest of the day.  

A selfish thought hit my head…..she had to beat it, I couldn’t live without her.  

What would life be without her?

A huge part of me would be gone.

I was still working but that didn’t matter.  

I wanted to be with her.  

I’d either get the time off or quit my job.

I really thought she’d want me there after surgery to take care of her but, she wanted me there as soon as I could get there.

I swear she thought that maybe there wasn’t gonna be an after. 

I arrived a few days later.

At first we kinda skirted around the issue, kinda like a huge elephant in the room.

We went out for long, lovely lunches together and we sat on her patio porch looking out at her beautiful wooded yard and talked about everything except breast cancer.

Laughed at crazy stuff, like always.

I went to the surgical appointment with her and heard the plan from the Oncologist.

They were going to remove her breast and then hit her hard with Chemo and Radiation.

They wanted to give her the best possible treatment they could to keep her alive.

It made me sick to know what would be happening to her soon.

I wanted to go somewhere and scream and cuss and throw stuff.

After that appointment, we sat outside at a lovely restaurant on the water and we ordered wine.

We klinked our glasses and had a few sips, then we looked at each other and we began to laugh…..and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

It had always gotten us through before, it always worked….. all the tough times of our lives, maybe we could laugh this one away too?

One evening she told me what she’d been thinking…..

If she made it through the surgery, the chemo, and the radiation and the outlook was good for her, she wanted the other breast removed also.  

She didn’t want to worry about cancer showing up in her other breast.

I understood and actually agreed with her.

My husband called to tell me that one of my daughters had suffered a miscarriage.  

He told me to stay with my BFF that he’d gone to the hosptal and although broken hearted, she was gonna be OK.

First thing in the morning, I had flowers delivered to her with a note from my heart. 

Later I called and I cried with her. 

She cried for the baby she wouldn’t have and I cried for my child that I couldn’t console….couldn’t hold her and comfort her.

It was a horrible, helpless feeling. 

The very next night another call to tell me that my youngest had been in a pretty bad auto accident. 

She’d been taken to the hospital was battered and bruised but being released to home. 

I knew my little one would only feel better if I was there, hugging her and assuring her that it was gonna be OK, but I was thousands of miles away.

I sent another bouquet of flowers and another note.

My brain was spinning.  

Should I go home?

Should I stay?  

I was there with my BFF,  spending maybe our last days together forever. 

Maybe this was our last good bye?

But, my girls?

They needed me.

I was torn.

My sweet husband was the one who convinced me that each girl was gonna be fine, one had a husband, one had a significant other and I needed to stay right where I was.

Time was ticking, “it” was getting closer.

One day I suggested we go wig shopping.

She didn’t want to….. said there really was no need as she was sure she wasn’t gonna lose her hair, no need for wigs.

But, for me? I asked her….. let’s do it for me.

And so we spent a day in the nearby big city and we tried on wigs. 

At first we made light of it.  

I’d always wanted long, beautiful, flowing, locks but, wow did I look dumb!

But I didn’t give up.

Blonde wigs, brunette wigs, red wigs, curly, straight, long and short.

JUST DUMB in every single one.

Eventually we became serious and when we left, she had two beautiful wigs with her.

When she tried them on, they looked so much like her real hair, no one would EVER be able to tell. 

No one ever but her!

When we arrived back at her house, she went into her bedroom and threw the bag across the room with a great force. 

She hated them.

She hated what they meant.

So did I.

We talked about me staying on for the surgery but she really didn’t want me there so a few days before it happened, I left and went home.

Her husband was great about calling me and keeping me posted on every move being made.

The surgery went well, if that’s what you wanna call it.

Her breast was removed, lymph nodes scraped and examined and they felt good about her prognosis.

I talked with her at least once every day.  

Her voice was weak.

She was tired.

And of course…..depressed.

She healed quickly.

She insisted on returning to work way too soon as far as I was concerned but, it’s what she wanted to do.

It wasn’t a 9 to 5 kind of job, so she went at her own pace.

And then….. the chemo began.

This was a time before every breathing human had a cell phone attached to their hands.

So we checked in with each other every night after work from home.

Sometimes before the evening was over, we’d talked two or three times with really nothing to say, just to be connected.

Once we watched a TV program together.

The first week, the treatments went better than we both expected and I began to think…..DAMN, she’s gonna beat this!

I don’t remember how many treatments…..LOTS, too many!

Before long, the chemo took hold and it wasn’t gonna be so easy after all.

It didn’t just kill cancer cells, it wreaked havoc with every organ in her body and she suffered.

It hit her G.I. system hard.

She told me how she’d be driving and have to stop to puke or screach up to the nearest gas station and run like hell to the bathroom to try to beat the diarrhea, petrified she wasn’t gonna make it.

It was all so humiliating to her, her breast gone, her insides so sick, her loss of control of her own body.

I wanted to be there but, she insisted she go this pretty much on her own.

I felt worthless as her friend.

I didn’t know what to do.

I sent flowers, plants, and cards but it wasn’t enough.

I wanted something else and then I thought…..sick prizes!

When I was a little girl and got sick, my mom would always buy me a sick prize and, it aways made me feel better.

When my little girls got sick, I bought them sick prizes and it always made them feel better.

That’s what I decided to do….. I’d send her prizes.

I was constantly on the hunt for things to send…..jewelry, creams, powders, books, anything that I thought would make her smile.

“I got my prize today,” she’d tell me when we talked that night.

She loved it…..I loved it.

When it was time for her to wear a bra, I asked if I could buy her first one.

I found where mastectomy bras were specialized and made my purchase.

When it arrived at her door, she called me happy, well as happy as you can be over that kind of thing.

One morning she called.

“Sue, my hair…..a big clump of my hair is on my pillow.”

My stomach got sick.  

Hadn’t she had enough?

I knew what I would do and I told her…..

“Go get the scissors, go into the bathroom and cut your hair short, as short as you can.  

SCREW cancer.

YOU TAKE CHARGE.”

And she did.

And then she went into her closet and pulled out the bag of wigs that she never wanted to open and she put one on.

The wigs really were beautiful, same color and cut of her real hair but she hated them.

I guess it really wasn’t the wigs she hated but more what they meant.

And then she discovered HATS!

She wore hats every day and before long she was known around town as the lady who wore all the great hats.  

She’d found a way to deal with what it had done to her and it made her feel better. 

I couldn’t buy her hats BUT….. 

I discovered hatpins….. all sorts of beautiful hatpins and before long, she had a lovely collection.

When she reached the half-way point in her chemo, she sent me a basket full of flowers and plants to celebrate.

I tried to keep them all alive but at that time in my life, my green thumb was still very brown.  

But, one tiny plant grew for me.  

And it grew and grew. 

Today that plant is in my yard, it’s over 20 years old! 

This is true!

Every time I water that plant, I talk to it.

You’re suppose to talk to your plants, right?

I tell it thank you for staying with me, because even though it was a bad time…..she was half-way through and that was the good part.

It felt like forever but eventually the chemo treatments ended.

But, she wasn’t done.

On to radiation.

It hurt. 

It burned her delicate chest.

Burned like kerosene lit on fire.

I had always been the tough one, the bolder of the two but she showed me a part of her I’d never known, never seen. 

A strength within. 

I think she’d been saving it for a time like then.

The radiation ended.

Her docs were completely positive that she had a long life ahead of her.

Time did pass and I was so proud of my BFF.

She was a survivor!

She had the other breast removed, had reconstructive surgery and she wanted it behind her.

Once when she was going through it all, I suggested she journal.

She was appalled!

WHY THE HELL would she write about such a horrible time in her life?

She wanted it over, gone.

She did NOT want to discuss it EVER!

And, we didn’t!

Our visits back and forth resumed.

It was the four of us again, maybe even crazier than before.

There was the time we stayed in a quaint, little Victorian hotel in Little River, California, next to the town of Mendocino.

One of the rooms had a huge bed and the view out the window was a straight shot of the Pacific Ocean.

One evening the four of us propped ourselves up on the bed, side by side, wine in hand and we watched the sun dip into the Pacific.

Or the time in Puerta Vallarta, Mexico when the four of us lied on beach chairs on the sand all day, eating drinking and laughing.

Oh, and buying jewelry from the peddlers that came right to our chairs, no need to even move.

We visited them in their lovely home on Lake Michigan and we toured.  

We enjoyed all the beaches along the way, ate the famous white fish, bought salt water taffy, drank wine and of course we laughed.

We met in our hometown for a friends 60th birthday party and once  for a class reunion.

Always the four of us togehter.

Always picking up right where we left off.

And always laughing.

And then, something began to feel not right.

(the sixth and final part to follow…..stay tuned)