• April 17, 2013 • Comments (0)

Rolled out of bed at 9:15 this morning.  I must have been exhausted from the stress.   I was thinking about my friends yesterday, and how lucky I am to have them.  If you’re every wondering what you can do to help a sick friend:  just be there, and be yourself.  In the week following my endocrinologist appt (before the biopsy), I went to Austin for the wedding of the daughter of one of my best friends from high school, Lea.  We stayed with our dear friends Tricia and Mark.  We got to see many old friends, and they were just as funny as ever.  I told most of them about the upcoming biopsy.   From Jimbo:  “What?  Because cancer didn’t get the message the first time around?”  From my stepdaughter Alex, upon me saying that I’d probably scored in the 80′s on my final exams since I was a bit distracted:  “80′s???   Ooohh.   A Heather fail.”

Then there was Mark, taking my hubby Bill to Wally’s in Austin to buy the underwear he’d forgotten.  Wally’s is an old-time men’s haberdashery in Austin, where they use a calculator to write up the totals by hand on a piece of paper.   And so Bill is now the proud owner of several $40 pairs of underwear, because Wal-Mart is just not good enough.

And my friends Lea and Tricia, both of whom I’ve known for over 20 years.   All of my female friends are remarkably stylish, which is weird since I’m still wearing the same clothes I wore 20 years ago:   Eddie Bauer circa 1985.  Lea (mother of the bride) had glue-gunned lace doilies to the bottom of all the wedding menus.  I would expect nothing less.  Tricia had us set up in her fabulous guest room (known as the “Liberace room” for the white, white, white everywhere, coupled with the sparkly headboard).

I laughed a lot the whole weekend, which took my mind off things for several nice long stretches.  And then when we got back and found out the biopsy was the very next morning.   Bill came with me, which was nice.  Except he has never been treated in a hospital, clinic, or emergency room.  Not once, not in 58 years on the planet.  Not a stitch, broken bone, nothing.  Sample observation:  “Wow, look at all the people in hospital beds and wheelchairs in the hallways.”   Yes, hon, that’s how they get around.  So I texted my friend Melanie throughout the whole biopsy saga yesterday.   Her voice always calms me down, and amazingly, she has the same ability on email and texts.  It was great to know she was there, particularly since she was probably simultaneously teaching a class, shooting a video, and writing a song (the only person I know with a crazier schedule than mine).

Thanks, friends.


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