they’re things the doctors can’t tell you because most of them haven’t experienced it. They can explain all about the medical supplies you’ll need and things like that.” April took the pad of paper from Sherri and then wrote down several more things. “But someone who has lived through it has a different perspective.” She handed the book back to Sherri.
Sherri read what April had added, and smiled at the phone numbers she’d listed. “My ‘in case of emergency’ numbers?”
“You’re going to have some bad days, and that’s when you call one of us. We can talk you through it.” April slipped an arm around Page. “She helped me through mine. I helped her through hers. And now we’ll help you.”
“Why?”
“Consider us your boob squad.” At Sherri’s downturned lips, April shrugged. “We’ll come up with a better name. The price of membership stinks, but remember, you don’t have to go through this alone. And when you’re ready, you can stop in at the Hope Center. There’s a lot of great resources there for women like us.”
The waitress brought their salads, and conversation paused until she left the table. Page leaned in. “Have a spokesperson to give family and friends updates so you don’t have to repeat the same details over and over.”
April chimed in. “And let everyone who offers to help you have a chance to do something. Even if it’s bringing over a pizza, or doing a load of your laundry. This isn’t the time to be independent. That will come later.”
Sherri stabbed a tomato, then looked from one woman to the other. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
Page stared at her and swallowed. “Good. Because you’re picking up the tab.”
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