I'm a leukemia survivor, and I recall during my darkest days in the hospital when my friends would come to see me, especially the male friends - they had certain mortality issues with their visit.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I had some really dear friends who died from AIDS-one in particular. His family wasn't around and he didn't have many friends. I spent a lot of time with him in his later days.
I've spent my life visiting a handful of people who are very close to me when they've been committed to one hospital or another in New York.
The happiest moment in my life? When my doctor told me I was completely cured of leukemia.
I met a woman who went through a very difficult personal crisis, and she was really bed-ridden for a long time, and 'Friends' got her through. I met a woman who had a brain injury while living in Europe, and 'Friends' got her through.
The day in 2004 when the radiologist told me I had invasive cancer, I walked down the hospital corridor looking for a phone to call my husband, and I could almost see the fear coming toward me like a big, black shadow.
I had a friend, Melissa, who was 28 years old. She was my best friend's wife, and she was my wife's best friend. She died of breast cancer. When she passed away back in 2004 was the last time I cried.
I had several near death experiences or very, you know, close calls, if you may, in Iraq. You know, there was an incident where I was nearly kidnapped.
My mother had introduced me to a lot of my father's friends because she believed that I would get to know the guy my dad was better through his friends than just in the hospital visits.
Cancer runs in our family. I lost my grandmother to it. There's a saying that you meet people and instantly know them. My grandmother and I had that. The first time my heart was broken was when my grandmother passed away. I was twenty-one.
I have been unexpectedly confronted with my own mortality as I was told that I had cancer.