"I've had more good sex than most people have had hot dinners, so when I found a lump in my breast and knew straight away it was cancer, I thought this is fine. I've had my fun. I'll have a mastectomy, get it done and get on with my life. But when I came out of surgery, I was wheeled into a hospital room shared with one other woman."
"The doctors closed the curtain around us, sat down and told me the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes and my other breast. I would need a second mastectomy and an extensive course of chemo. I felt as if I'd been hit by a truck. I couldn't believe it. When everyone left, the woman on the other side of the curtain, who must have heard this entire conversation, called out to me and said Hey friend, are you OK?"
"We talked, and she had breast cancer too. She'd just had a lumpectomy. What amazed me was she'd gone through this horrible thing but was so attuned and supportive to me. She told me, It'll be OK. They're really good at breast cancer. They know how they treat it. And then we just started talking about our lives. Her partner later came bearing a marijuana cookie, and we ate half each."
A person discovered a breast lump and immediately recognized it as cancer, planning a mastectomy without fear. After surgery, doctors revealed spread to lymph nodes and the other breast, requiring a second mastectomy and extensive chemotherapy, producing shock and disbelief. A fellow patient in the shared hospital room offered immediate empathy, reassurance, and deep overnight conversation, shared laughter and a marijuana cookie, and left a heartfelt message after checking out. The brief connection provided crucial emotional support during two years of intensive treatment — another mastectomy, a hysterectomy, chemotherapy and radiation — though contact was later lost.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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