On Friday afternoon, I cried at Madison and Vine when we were having a glass of wine. She demanded I stop so I did. Earlier that afternoon, I touched the side of her breast, saw the bandage from where the needle was inserted for the biopsy, saw the bruising. It looked like a bruised boob. It could have been anyone's boob. But it happened to belong to my friend.
She's waiting for more tests to get the prognosis. I fear the worst -- I don't know why. Because I am an alarmist.
Nice blog. Enjoyed going through it. Keep it up the good work. Cheers :) Beth colonialgifts.co.uk
ReplyDeleteThank you, Beth. I hope you keep reading.
ReplyDeleteR.D.