Ode to My BFF

From the day we met in our Sophomore year of college we were finishing each other's sentences.  Even when distance and laziness kept us out of touch, when we reconnected it was like we had never been apart.  The death of our beautiful friend Karen brought us together in a new way.  For the first time, we realized there was no getting out of here alive.

So when my mammogram came back suspicious, she was the first person I told.  And when it turned out I had cancer, she was there.  Not with thoughts and prayers, but with real support.  She bought a one-way ticket a few days before my bilateral mastectomy and vowed to stay as long as I needed her.

Anyone who knows me well knows that my talents don't lie in housekeeping skills.  My priorities are elsewhere; my cats and chickens, cooking delicious food, politics.  Anything but vacuuming, mopping, or laundry.  My BFF went to work immediately getting my house and yard in order.  The mountain of laundry dwindled to nothing, and those chores I kept putting off got done.  She finds joy in cleaning; who knew? 

She accompanied me to the hospital and waited hours for me to be out of surgery.  When my surgical drains leaked, she changed my bed and my bandages.  She looked unflinchingly at my flat chest with incisions from armpit to armpit.  She played endless games of Gin Rummy, learned the names and personalities of 11 cats and 6 chickens, tried every kitchen gadget I own. 

Her name is Denise, and she is my family.