Sue

Last night, one of my tables was a friendly, gorgeous couple.  They were easy to wait on, meaning they were nice, polite and low maintenance.  About an hour into their dinner, I go up to check on them, and the woman says something like, "You had a booth at the Torrance farmer's market."

"Yes," I say, "raising money for breast cancer."  I'm not super surprised that she would remember me...the Wilson Park Farmer's Market is very popular, and I DO have a shaved head, not to mention the fact that I am wearing pink ribbon earrings, a ribbon necklace and a pink ribbon badge reel :)

But then she proceeds to tell her husband how she cried at my booth.  "Oh my God," I say, "you bought the wish bracelet...you had just made your lumpectomy appointment!"  We both had the chills.  

I can remember that whole encounter back in August vividly. As she was looking at all of the pink ribbon goodies on my table, she looked at an item I had called a "wish bracelet"--a simple rope bracelet with a pink ribbon charm on it.  The idea is that you make a wish when you put the bracelet on and when the bracelet eventually falls off,  your wish comes true.  As I was telling her this, she confessed that she had just made her lumpectomy appointment, and she began to cry.  Then of course I began to cry.  Here she was, alone, walking around at the farmer's market minding her own business, DEFINITELY not expecting to see my big pink booth, and then she's sharing her story with me.   So I put the bracelet on her and told her that I wished for her well being, and we hugged.  I blogged about her and the other women I had met that day.  And now here she was.

It's hard to explain how the odds were against her being in my station.  After 13 years at Kincaid's, there are still people who eat there regularly who I have never waited on.  There are a lot of tables.  A lot of servers.  We're in a different station every night.  But there she was.

I knew by looking at her that all had gone well since last we saw one another.  Sue is beautiful, with an easy smile and delicate crows feet that are the proof that she uses that smile often.   I was so grateful that fate had brought us back together--seeing Sue was just what I needed after Marie's diagnosis.  Seeing her also reinforced my resolve to keep fighting and keep talking about breast cancer.  Thank you, Sue!!

Deciding that we had something to celebrate, I brought out a dessert with a candle for Sue.  I wanted to celebrate her survivorship, our meeting, BEING ALIVE.  Then she told me it was her and Bill's wedding anniversary!  Well, add that to the list of things we are thankful for!  It was awesome.

Not able to contain myself, I told Reggie (my GM) the story.  He then proceeded to go to the table and chat them up, and then he took care of their dinner bill!  That Reggie, he is GOOD PEOPLE.

I am so blessed in my life.  My kids helped me see that first.  Then my husband.  Then breast cancer.  We're all in it together, and that's the only thing that makes it bearable sometimes.

At a Loss for Words

I never "finished" this blog.  I created it to chronicle Gina's journey, as well as my involvement with the 3-Day, but when the walk was over, I couldn't bring myself to write about it.

You see, the walk was so many things, such an experience, that I felt like writing about it in this blog would make it somehow be over and forgotten, and I was not ready for it to be over.  I also worried that I would not have the ability to adequately express all that the 3-Day had been to me.  And so, I did nothing.  And not just here:  I also left the windows of my car painted with all of my anti cancer slogans for MONTHS after we got back from the walk.  It took me almost as long to unpack my stuff.  The one thing I did do?  I registered to be a crew member in the  San Francisco and Washington, DC walks and to walk again in San Diego.

Anyway, as I sit here in the dark, still in my uniform, I still feel the same way.  I don't know how to write about it.  I only know that the 3-Day experience still drives me.  Lots of people, including my kids, have asked me why I'm still shaving my head.  Well, I explain, even though Gina is cancer free, thousands of women are still being diagnosed every day, and I still feel the need to keep the conversation going.  And the hair always starts conversations :)

Just tonight, I waited on a table that had 2 survivors at it.  One woman was a cervical cancer survivor, and the other a breast cancer survivor.  Mary, the breast cancer survivor, got diagnosed a while back and ended up becoming a part of a research study.  They did surgery to remove her tumor, and while she was on the table they gave her a dose of radiation at the tumor site.  That's it...no chemo, nothing else.  She said that it almost felt like she never had cancer at all.  As part of the study, though, she continues to go for exams, and in her last one two days ago, her oncologist found a lump in her other breast.  As shitty as those conversations can be, they are also conversations that need to be had, and that make us all feel connected instead of alone.

So why am I writing now, after 5 months of silence?  Well, because breast cancer has reared it's ugly head again:  Gina's older sister Marie got diagnosed this morning.

Marie found a lump a few weeks ago, and we'd all have been foolish not to think it was breast cancer, but I know we all hoped.  We all hoped against hope that maybe it was something else.  Please let it be something else!  But it was not to be.  It's still too early to know much, but I also know all I need to know: the fight continues.

I'm going to cry tonight, I'm going to wonder WHY tonight, but I'm also going to shave my head, put on my boots and continue to do everything I can to kick cancer's ass.  It's not over til it's over, baby, and it ain't over yet!