This entry is a little different from most of my blogs. It is about a topic very dear to my heart that I rarely discuss. It is about friendship. I have been blessed with more friends than one woman can ever imagine having. Friends from all walks of life and friends from all time periods in my life. Friends come and go over the years. Some I have regular contact with and others have completely left my life. Never the less, my life has been rich with friendship.
Some friendships are different from all the rest. Those friendships with stand the test of time. It seems that no matter how busy we are, how much time passes, or how much distance is between us, the friendship endures as if we spoke yesterday. It is a friendship built on laugher, tears, births, deaths, and every imaginable life experience in between. It started 27 years ago in a music theory class. I don’t remember the exact moment we spoke, but I am certain it centered around laughter.
Yesterday we were not laughing. Yesterday was the darkest day of our 27 years of sisterhood. Yesterday my girl was given some grim health news. Yesterday we learned that we are in for the battle of our lives. I went with her to the follow-up mammogram. I had a call back mammogram a few years ago. It turned out to be nothing at all. So of course, when she told me she needed to go back, I offered to go with her. We sat in the waiting room together talking much like we did when we were 22 years old in the dining hall. We cracked jokes and made fun of ourselves. When she was asked to have an ultra sound for yet a closer look I got a bit concerned. They quickly ushered us to another part of the hospital. As we waited, she sat in her hospital gown and we kept talking. This time we discussed the details of her mother’s death from breast cancer. We started thinking about what we might be dealing with now. We had just met when her mother passed away after a very brief battle with the disease. We always knew there was a risk for her. We both had been vigilant about getting our mammograms each year. A few times over the last 10 years, we would hold our breath for her results. With a huge sigh of relief, one more year passed with no problem. Yesterday was different, tears poured down her face as the radiologist explained his concerns. I rubbed her back as we both listened. I focused the best I could. I needed to be her other set of ears. After we were alone, we embraced. I cradled her face in my hands, looked in her eyes and said, “Listen to me. This will be ok. We will get through this together. You are not alone. I will be there ever step of the way with you.” She shook her head with a muffled sob. Like any strong women, we grabbed a few more tissues and head to the radiologist’s office to see her films. With note pad and pen in hand, she got ready to take notes, I stood near her listening to every word. I needed to gather all the information I could. Still dazed as we left, I asked if she wanted a ride home. She chose to drive herself.
As I drove home, I began making arrangements with my husband and mother to ensure I would be available to her in the upcoming days. I knew my life would be on hold until I knew she was well. You see we have a pact to grow old together. I know this is not the end of the road, just a twist in the road. This twist might be a long one and a tough one. We agreed to keep our sense of humor, even during this. Then I shamelessly accused her of doing anything to get a boob job. We laughed like we always do. Somehow still laughing together makes it seem like everything is all right.
Ode to Walkers and Compression Socks
A post from our joint blog:
Posted on June 11, 2013 by Susan
We promised to live long – Golden Girls.
Sitting round with our diamonds and pearls.
Pull up your compression socks
Hold tight while we take some walks
And don’t let the wind mess up your blue curls.