Saving Graces - Elizabeth Edwards [162]
…to the matter-of-fact and far-stronger-than-she-knows Julie J., who after her own August 2004 diagnosis wrote to say she had just gotten through the chemo, and I’m a wimp, she added, so if I can do it, you certainly can manage.
…to survivor Gina S., who wrote of her friend Rachel, who had been battling a brain tumor, successfully, for fourteen years: “It doesn’t define me,” said Rachel, “it’s just one small part of who I am. I’m not a woman with a brain tumor. I’m Rachel, I’m married to Bill, I’m a counselor, I have green eyes, I like Ethiopian food, and I have a brain tumor.”
…to Jonell M., a survivor who said that simultaneously it is horrible and it is not that bad.
…to Kathy M., who when she numbered the angels along her path named family, friends, doctors, her congregation, prosciutto-and-gruyère pastry pinwheels, and mini-sausage quiche.
…to Jan B., who was delighted when her straight hair grew back with an ever so soft lovely curl. But what got her, and it really got her, was that a year later it was back to the same old straight hair. (Jan, at least you got the curls for a year. I got my straight hair back and it was solidly gray to boot.)
…to eighty-year-old Shirley H., who called me “dear girl,” and to eighty-six-year-old Ival S., who called me “honey.”
…to thirteen-year-old Jane A., who gave me good advice on how to keep up my spirits. Her mom is a survivor.
…to Suzanne K., of my home town of Raleigh, who offered to come play the violin for my children.
…to Ray M. and his wife, Courtenay, who was diagnosed with the same cancer as mine on the same day. When he began telling friends about her illness, wonderful people came forward to share their stories of the triumphs against breast cancer. “As I’ve told my wife since this ordeal began,” he wrote, “I feel like I’ve been going through life under a blanket; breast cancer is so common and I really had no idea.”
…to Susan M., whose first words to her doctor when she heard her diagnosis were “But my son is five years old!”
…to remarkable Robin S., the mother of two disabled children, who when her friends asked, “When does G-d think you’ve had enough?” after she was diagnosed with breast cancer, answered “that G-d could not prevent my getting cancer but tapped me on the shoulder to find the cancer in time to get treatment and be around to continue to fight for my children.”
…to Marjorie W., who wrote that when her daughter’s fifthgrade teacher was diagnosed with breast cancer, she did not want to tell her students. But then she decided, If Elizabeth Edwards can tell the country that she has breast cancer, I can at least tell my class, and she did, and the children were wonderful.
…to Barbara S., who wrote to say we had met at a rally in Ohio on October 24, 2004. She said that she had been wearing a survivor shirt from the Race for the Cure, that I had come up to her and hugged her, and that she had felt a strong special connection.
…to an unflappable Mrs. S., who at the time of a bad prognosis thirty-six years before had told her pessimistic doctor point-blank, “I have five children to raise, so forget your prognosis!”
…to Jan G., who told her crazy, zany woman friends who all wanted to help to write her letters, which she put in a notebook. “Sometimes at night,” she wrote, “when every demon from hell was sitting on my chest telling me I was going to die, I would get up and go read that notebook. Those prayers, scriptures, and heartfelt words brought me comfort and courage. I could hear those women’s voices in the words they wrote to me. I will keep that notebook forever.” I know just what Jan meant—I have these letters.
…to Cheryl S., who has the courage to say that having breast cancer is a good thing, for like so many survivors, her life is better now than it was before.
…to Susan N., who wrote to say that when she watched us on television, it pleased her John and I always