(Susan, oh yes - I just remembered another one - it’s been ‘gone’ like it never happened but I had witnesses!!! I love this little pum’kin, too - thanks and hugs). Here tis - when it came time for the first mammogram on the remaining breast after chemo, I decided to use another radiologist, so armed with my past films I met him after the mammo was done. As he was intensely studying the films, he calmly asked, when the other breast was scheduled. I nearly passed out. Within a few minutes he had contacted my onco and surgeon, and we met that afternoon, within an hour. Sure enough - somehow a continuing enlarging mass had been “missed” arising from behind the sternum (I was concerned about that many months earlier but the first surgeon I met with totally denied bilateral malignancy). My strength held out perfectly, until I left the meeting at that hospital, having promised my oncodoc I’d contact my psychiatrist (who helped me through the first nightmare). Once in my car, I heard myself screaming so loudly my ears couldn’t detect the intensity of my very primal utterance. Once home, my phone was ringing - psych told me I was in a very normal but dangerous state and I needed to be with someone that weekend. Surgery was to be that Monday. I had no one in Austin I felt I could stay with in my state of mind, and told him that (as calls were coming in on the other line and my cell from friends in Dallas to ask how I fared). He insisted, I be with someone or he would come and get me. Sheesh. Anyway, once I told a friend she told me to “get to the airport - just get on the SW flight - we’ll meet you - we’ll find you…” My ticket was waiting but I still have no recollection of getting to the airport that day. Once on the plane, still crying, a very aged, minute black woman sat down beside me - I was by the window and remember thinking oh please don’t ask me to help you … I can’t help anyone now; I was a private pilot and people just seemed to ‘find’ me on flights. Sure enough as we rolled down the tarmack the lady took my hand. Oh no! Turning my head just a tad toward her, I muttered I couldn’t help her … and apologized, as we lifted off. I heard her say, quietly, patting my hand, “It’s going to be all right - I’m here for YOU.” Believe it or not, it didn’t phase me. But, when I deplaned, 3 of my friends were there with a SW employee I knew. Their embraces begin to heal my psyche as I began to sob again. I was “losing it”. The woman, I thought … wanting to apologize to her, so turned to find her. She hadn’t deplaned yet, as one of my friends assurred me she would have noticed a minute, elderly black lady in a minute. We asked the crew as they came out the passengerway, so one dashed back to check the plane, but my flight attendant looked right at me and told us there was no one sitting with me in that row; in fact, she deliberately kept passengers out of those 2 extra seats having noticed I was in such grief. No way! I described her to a “t” but it did no good, no one was on that flight, or in my row, either. On the way to a friend’s home, we dropped off another one who wanted me to see her mother, who was someone I had loved for eons - an elderly black woman who was full of love for everyone. I was told she didn’t know anything “yet …” about my latest news, but it was up to me whether to tell her or not, she didn’t even know I was arriving in Dallas. As soon as we entered her home and she saw me, “Mama Cele” cried out that she’d been worried about me, … “this morning, I sent my angels to be with you—are you all right my sweet one?”

James, dahling, you are SUCH a bore. Why on EARTH would you think women would come to talk to other women and listen to YOU preaching to them. Ahahahahaha. Run along, dahling.