Nope, this one is my favorite

I've learned some things over the past couple of weeks. I learned that no matter how well you think you know a person, know their strengths and their weaknesses, you don't know and can't predict how they will react to something unexpected, like say, hypothetically, cancer, for example. I've discovered that I really knew little about the people in my life I consider close to me. The people I would have expected to keep their distance came closer, some I expected to help me find a soft place to fall at the end of a long day, are keeping me at a very stiff arm's length. Before this became my reality, I don't know how I would have reacted, but now I know. Now I know that something as simple as a voicemail can change the outlook on your whole day. Someone touching your arm and saying, "How're you holding up?" That makes you want to hold up the world.

Looking back to last week's blur of activity, I sit here at the computer with my very caffeinated cup of coffee already feeling the effects of either the radiation or the traveling to Hyannis everyday or both. On Friday the 11th, I walked into Martha's Vineyard airport knowing my pilot's name was Richard Canastra. The name sounded familiar...not island familiar, but Fairhaven familiar. I watched a balding guy about my age, with sunglasses and a neatly trimmed beard walk toward General Aviation. He was wearing a Whaling City Cycles t-shirt over his shorts, and I knew then he was a homeboy. He put out his hand and said, "I'm Ritchie." Only a Fairhaven kid would still be calling himself "Ritchie." I asked him, "Whaling City, are you from New Bedford?" "Fairhaven originally, but yeah, I live in New Bedford." I knew it!

In the plane, which was on the bigger side, with four seats in back, I sat up front with Ritchie and put on my headphones which had Steely Dan playing quietly in the background. We chatted constantly all the way to Hyannis, and I learned that he graduated from Fairhaven High in 1979, the year after my brother George. "Of course I know George, he was NUTS back then!" He asked all about my older brother, how many kids he had, how old they were, if he was married. "Tell him mine are 3 and 18 months," he said like a man who was doomed.

The ride seemed to be over in minutes and at Griffin, Ritchie walked me to the building and he said something like, "So Chris, are you going to be okay?" My throat tightened a little and I said, "I don't know how much they tell you, the Angel Flight people." He answered, "They don't tell us anything." I took a deep breath in preparation for my long story short version. "I have breast cancer," I started, "but in a very early stage, and all 22 of my lymph nodes were negative, so I'm going to be fine." I am going to be fine. I don't know if I am reassuring other people with this sentence or reassuring myself.

Inside Griffin Avionics, Ritchie said he'd be sure to sign up for lots more of my flights and when I put out my hand for him to shake it, he grabbed it and pulled me into a big bear hug. As I walked outside to wait for the shuttle bus, I knew I could conquer the universe.


Yeah, this brings it all back. The person pushing me out was, of course, my ex-boyfriend, the ones protecting me were the Cristea boys. Who knew? Not me. I do now though.