Lizards and Lamborghinis

Friendship. Especially girl-friendship. What an amazing, authentic, unconditional, unpredictable thing. Last night I met three dear friends for dinner. We've tried for the last several years to get together at least monthly, but were generally lucky if we made it quarterly. This time we set a record. I sent an email on Thursday. "I need my girlfriends before this all starts." Lo and behold everyone made it on Monday. There's that silver lining again ... Four hours, and two pitchers of margaritas later, we hugged in the parking lot. Bittersweet. What would I be like when I saw them again? Would it ever be the same?

Because this disease isn't picky and touches so many, my girlfriends knew some of what I was facing. Like the fact that I won't be able to lift my arms for a while. The restaurant was in a shopping center with a Ross and an Old Navy. They arrived with bags in hand. "What did ya get?" I asked. "Oh, we'll show you inside." Fully expecting to see cute clothes for one 10-year old son or another's 3-year old daughter I was truly stunned when they presented me with all of the bags. Full of zip-front comfy sweatsuits and button-front cute shirts for me to lounge in during my recovery.

There was also a necklace. A pale green leather strap with four discs on it ... each carrying a different word. Health. Patience. Joy. Live. ... Yeah. I'll take one of each, please.

And then there were the hand-knit scarves, made with love, all within two weeks. Four of them. All pink, yet distinctly different. Mine has small bead fringe sewn on the end. Tess's is fuzzy. Rosie's is fluffy. Sofie's is neither fluffy nor fuzzy nor frilly ... perfect for her. Mom's is classy, as it should be. All in the shape of the traditional pink ribbon. One for me. One for each of my girls. One for my mom. "A tangible expression of my support," the card said. More are on the way for each of the women at the table and a few others who are flanking me through this battle.

We talked a lot about breasts. "How big are you thinking?" "Are you and Bill going to have a going away party for them?" "What exactly is the reconstruction process?" "What kind of bra will you need as you're going through this?"

Then we got silly. We talked about my Del Mar plastic surgeon and the fact that my new bustline would be valued at somewhere in the neighborhood of $30,000. How crazy is that?

"I can't wait to take you to the Wizard of Bras," Jen said. "It's THE place to get fitted for a bra in all of Southern California. We'll make a day of it." Having not fully heard Jen, Carol responded, "The Lizard of What?" We laughed loud enough to turn heads.

We then mused that the cost of a bra there was probably $500 or more. "Well I wouldn't expect anything less to support my $30,000 boobs," I said. "You can't fill a Lamborghini at the Arco station," said Carol. "Yeah, that's what I'll say to Bill when he asks why I didn't just buy bras from Target like I usually do."

We laughed. Out loud. Belly laughs. For four hours.

Conversation turned serious here and there, but only for a little while. "You need to tell us what you need from us. Whatever it is."

"I need this." Friendship.