Now that's what friends are for

Last night my friend John and I met for burgers and drinks at the same bar we've been going to for ... um ... 30 years. Gulp. If those walls could talk! Anyway, he was swell, listening patiently to my obsessive worries and giving me wise tips on how to get by through my hospitalization and at-home convalescence. And who better? He's been in and out of hospitals a great deal over the last few years and spent weeks and weeks at home recovery.

His advice:

• Push myself. If, post-op, I can walk at all, I should.

• Stand up for myself. Don't let the insurance company "rush" me out of the hospital early. Play the "I live alone" card if need be.

• Don't rely on the pain meds too much.

• Tell Kathy. She's our mutual friend and I have been avoiding that conversation. I love Kathy but she can be sooooo difficult, especially when it comes to medical matters. I don't want to hear how, by having a hysterectomy, I'm a puppet of the male medical establishment, or that things like this don't happen to her because she is positive and won't allow them to. I just can't bear it right now. On the other hand, she does care about me and he's right, those feelings should be honored. She'd be so hurt if this all happened and I didn't tell her. And, besides, not telling her would put John in the middle. He doesn't deserve that. So I'll shoot Kathy an email next week.

John is a good friend. A faithful friend. I am lucky to have him.