I spent the night at her house after I had some teeth pulled and, just like every other time, we got fresh sheets and blankets out of the cedar chest at the foot of her bed, and put on new “pillow slips”. As I settled in for the night in the “pink room”, my teeth were solidly under my pillow, and my hand was solidly wrapped around the container. I was determined to catch that Tooth Fairy in the act. I woke up multiple times only to find the teeth still there. To this day, I don’t know how she managed it, but by morning the teeth were gone and money lay in their place. And as I ran out to show off my spoil, I was greeted by the scent of burnt toast and freshly brewed irish cream coffee.
For a short time, she was a Jafra representative. I don’t know how long that gig lasted, but I do know that she had two full cases of nail polish samples that my sisters and I would raid regularly. And I could always count on her having my favorite foods: Tato Skins, curly Macaroni & Cheese, thin bread, and pudding pops in the freezer outside.
She was always on hand for a good back scratch, a quarter for the offering plate at church, another quarter for a donut after, and a Starlight mint forever on hand in her purse. She was ever ready for a good card game. She faithfully repeated her cherished peanut butter ball recipe from heart when I called (every Christmas). And she always had a perfect manicure. Always.
The summer my family moved to Oregon, back in 1991, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Six or seven years later it came back. Another six years went by and I had a dream shortly after Josh and I were married and moved to Bend.
The thing with cancer is always something that’s been a little bit further removed from me. Sure, I was close with my grandmother, but hearing her diagnosis at age 11 wasn’t much of an impact on me. Everyone that I’ve known of who’s had it is usually a generation or two older than me. It’s always someone’s grandparent, aunt, or long lost uncle. And that’s sad enough.
But it recently hit much closer to home. And it’s that much more real. And it makes me that much angrier.
The same year that my grandma was first diagnosed, I meet Hannah. We were in the same grade, attending the same elementary school (she was in my twin sister’s class). We became fast friends, and remained that way through junior high, high school, and even college.
A year and a half ago she found a lump in her breast. She was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 28, and underwent a mastectomy. Just four months ago, they found the cancer in her other breast. Nobody should ever have to deal with cancer, but suddenly someone my own age fighting this vicious disease is a reality slap in the face.
Hannah has her own team for the upcoming Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Portland on Sept. 19, and my mom and I are both on her team. If you happen to be in Portland that weekend and want to join us, you’re more than welcome. If not, please make a donation to help find a cure, or to pay for one Komen funded mammogram for an under-insured woman. You can make a donation by clicking here. Together, we’ll find a cure.
