Hot chocolate ramblings

Ah - they got some hot chocolate in today. Luxury. Did I mention that I really hate Ovaltine?

Just had a loooong chat with a good friend of mine... the same week that my breast cancer was diagnosed, she was told that after five years she was still clear of hers. How strange is that? As soon as she knew that I had this particular disaster falling down around me she told me that if ever I needed to talk I should ring her.
She reiterated the offer a few times, but it was ages before I did. Eventually, though, I hadn't seen her for ages and I rang her as a sort of social call more than looking for support - but we got to talking about things and it did help me... the trouble was that I could hear how much it was upsetting her, her voice kept cracking... I felt really bad that I had upset her, and vowed pretty much not to mention anything like that again.
I saw her about a week or so later, and decided that I was going to avoid the whole issue - however she grabbed me and gave me the third degree about the chemo and various other things. As we chatted, she did look a bit tense, but she kept asking, so I couldn't avoid it at all. The same thing happened the next time we met, she was interested and kept asking... I felt really guilty, but what could I do?

Anyway, I haven't seen or spoken to her for about three weeks, and I may or may not get to an event this weekend where I would normally expect to see her, so I thought I would give her a call tonight to let her know that I had the op. We talked for over an hour - about what seemed like every possible aspect of what we've both been through. She gave me all the details of her operation and chemo, the fight that her doctors had to go through to get Herceptin for her (five years ago it was so new that the NHS wasn't prescribing it routinely, and her friends were gearing up for a massive campaign to get it for her - how things change!), we compared notes on wrecked fingernails, laughed about my new best friend (a drain with a bag that weighs nearly 2lb - that's almost a kilo in new money, so please can I have a new bag tonight?) and generally rambled like a pair of old women (which to some of the nursing staff here I guess we are!).
It was wonderful. I talked to her about things I can't talk about to anyone else, not because they are sensitive, but because they are silly things, that are meaningless to anyone who hasn't experienced them... that's not meant to be exclusive, or say that there is a way that other people can't be supportive, it's just that sometimes odd little shared experiences do produce a laugh - the "in-joke" sort of thing... like the way that some of the things in other people's blogs struck a chord. Anyway, after rambling on for ages, the lady came to "do the obs", so I thought I had better shut up. So I said "C, thank you for being my therapist tonight". Do you know what she said? No, of course you don't. She said "And thank you for being my therapist - I can talk to you about this stuff in a way that I have never ever been able to talk about it before - in all this time, most of my family and friends have not been able to talk about it, they've been embarrassed or found it painful - nobody has ever talked to me the way you do, and it's helped so much".

Which is a bit weird. I was feeling bad that I was making her cry in the beginning - but we seem to have helped each other, by scratching the scabs off things that looked like they'd healed but hadn't, and letting the air get to them. Now I feel much better, that we've helped each other, and I'm strangely touched that we've shared confidences in such a way. Before I make myself and everyone else sick with the psychobabble, or comments about sisters in the fight (NOOOOOO!!!!) I will just say... "Cheers, C - thanks for being a good mate!"