I called my buddy to see how his wife was doing. She had her breasts removed a couple days ago.
She didn't even have cancer in them. Not yet, anyway. But some kind of test, and looking at her family history, had the doctors tell her We suggest removal.
Karla and I said a healing prayer for her on Friday, the day of her surgery. We toasted her good health with our Friday night martini. And yesterday, Sunday, when I asked how she was doing, he said OK, then he put her on the phone.
I didn't expect to talk to her. I wasn't ready. I was, um, nervous. I was wearing a sweatshirt and I began to sweat. I'm only saying this now to get it out there because I'm a guy and I spoke to a woman who had just had her two breasts surgically removed 48 hours earlier--breasts that didn't even have anything wrong with them--yet. We spoke and I paced back and forth but I swear it was great to hear her voice.
She told me how she told her kids. And I can't imagine hearing such news from my mom as a thirteen year old boy.
She told me about the discomfort. And as a guy I can't imagine that kind of discomfort in that part of the body.
But enough of this stuff. I told you how I felt last night when I spoke to her and I know she's brave for what she went through.
El na rifa na la. Thank you, lord, for healing x.
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