I went a little off the rails last night. I started reading the enormous binder of information given to me at THE JAMES, and for the first time, I was forced to think about exactly what it means to have a breast removed. I saw pictures, I learned about the recovery time involved, I learned that no matter how good the plastic surgeon is, I may never want to take my shirt off in front of my husband again.
It hurts, People. It may be vain, and WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION for you, but it really, really hurts to know that I may never want my husband to touch me again, or look at me in the bedroom with the lights on.
And then I got mad at myself. I GET TO LIVE!!!! People are diagnosed with this stupid disease all the time and they die. I get to live… and I’m worried about what my chest will look like?! Come on, Nic.
So I threw down the binder and decided to get lost in the randomness of Facebook. After scrolling mindlessly for about 3 minutes, something caught my attention. It was post from a young momma who lives an hour away from me. She has an infant and her electricity had just been turned off. She wouldn’t be able to pay her bill until Friday and therefore may not have her electricity turned back on until early next week. I tried to ignore her, I really did. I even looked at her Facebook pictures and tried to judge why she didn’t qualify for my generosity.
And then I started typing. “I can help you. Call me.”
My mind started racing with thoughts like, I’m opening Pandora’s box here. If I pay for this once, she’s gonna expect me to bail her out every time. She should take everyone else’s Facebook advice and find a good church to help or use the emergency social service programs that are in place for her.
My phone rang. She was timid. She said, “Are you sure you want to do this?” Bad question.
I went on a 10 minute monologue about how I was just diagnosed with breast cancer and how being kind helps me feel better and how I know she’s a good momma and how I know Jesus loves her and how I know someday she is going to be a major force for good in her community.
The poor girl didn’t know what hit her. She had no choice but to sit and listen to me try and speak life into her existence– whether she needed it or not! Then I got her info, called the electric company and paid her bill.
Tomorrow, I will still have breast cancer. Tomorrow she will still have trouble putting food on the table and scraping together enough money to pay next months bills. But today, we both feel awfully good.
