Friends for Life

By TAD BARTIMUS

It was October, breast cancer awareness month, and the local hospital was having a half-price sale on mammograms. My friend who loved a bargain called and said, "Let's go get one, then have lunch." We did.

By suppertime, she was on the phone again, sobbing. My test, I knew, was fine. Hers wasn't.

That was a Monday. By Friday, I was feeding her ice chips as she rested, wan and shaky, in her hospital bed. The sheet on one side of her chest was flat. Her mastectomy over, the trauma of breast cancer was settling in for a long, lingering visit to this 42-year-old woman whose life, just a few days earlier, had revolved around two teen-age daughters, a husband and running a fulltime business.

She was also teaching me one of life's most important lessons: don't wait to be asked to do something for a woman with breast cancer, just go ahead and do it.

Ten days later my friend's mother also was diagnosed with breast cancer; she, too, had a mastectomy. In the time it takes to mark off a month of days on a calendar, we'd all become unwilling experts on a disease that will strike one in nine American women.

The winter that followed was cold and hard. This couple who had weathered so much in their two decades together suddenly lost the solid foundation under their comfortable world. Overnight, saving for retirement and anticipating future college graduations, weddings, even grandchildren, took on new meaning. Hanging over every conversation was the unspoken question: would she be there?

Often, near bedtime, our doorbell would ring and we'd find them standing on the porch in the snow, tears freezing to their cheeks. Could they come in and talk? Absolutely. They'd rail about alleged friends who didn't come around any more; a medical community that sometimes seemed indifferent to pain; their own awkwardness at communicating with each other. We mostly just made hot tea and listened; when they left, we hugged each other harder.

For months my friend soldiered through chemotherapy, suffering all its insults with dignity and courage. Her spouse tried to be brave for her, adding more household chores to his routine. The kids tiptoed through the school year with only the occasional rebellious act revealing their fear.

Three other women in recovery invited my friend to join their support group, understanding much better than I what she was going through. Soon my friend was reaching out to other women in the early days of their diagnosis. She was also teaching me one of life's most important lessons: don't wait to be asked to do something for a woman with breast cancer, just go ahead and do it. Cook her family a meal, clean her bathroom, give her a manicure, do a load of laundry. And chew her out if she dares even to think of sending a "thank you" note. The best gifts are always time and love.

This month my friend, her mother, her husband, her two daughters and her 2-year-old granddaughter celebrated the 10th anniversary of her breast cancer diagnosis by walking three miles in Denver's Race for the Cure ¨. More than 700,000 people, in 98 American cities, will participate this year in the walks organized by the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.

Rejoicing together that she has been free of cancer for 10 years, I asked my friend what having the disease had taught her:

"To value myself and my own life. To value my family and friends. To take time to smell the roses. To live one day at a time. To get a mammogram."

© Copyright 1998-2000 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com