I just left SF General. Hollie Stevens and I arrived at 6:56am, and met Laura Lasky of Solace SF so we could both walk Hollie into the hospital for her mastectomy. After being in limbo about the future of her body for several months as she underwent chemotherapy for the cancerous tumor in her left breast, a more complete treatment plan was decided last week after she finished her last round of chemo.

* A full mastectomy on her left breast, and a biopsy of her lymph nodes in her left armpit.

* About one month to heal from the surgery.

* Then 5 weeks of radiation for five minutes a day, five days a week.

* Next a bit of time to recover from the radiation.

* Then the reconstruction process will begin..

Last night I was constructing my private journal entry that would basically have been a pity party.. My frustrations with things related to my concussion that still linger, like an inability to multitask, or follow email threads more than two deep, that my first session with a new client in over 5 months felt..awkward, but then again I feel awkward in the world since my head was hit.. People are upset with me because they think I’m blowing them off, I’m not tracking days or time like I think I remember I used to..blah blah blah…

And then I came into Hollies hotel room to spend the night with her so we could go to the hospital together in the morning for her mastectomy. She was already asleep. I sat and watched her sleep for awhile, not in any creepy sort of way, but just sort of pondering her as a person. And I felt really foolish.

In the bed next to mine was this girl, this girl I’d met years ago in SF. A girl who I’ve shared tons of mutual friends with, but until last year had never gotten that close with. A girl that honestly irked me the first few times I met her, with her carefree attitude and self confidence that let her say things to people that I wouldn’t have dared to say back then and do things that I would never be comfortable doing (like the Girls and Corpses Magazine, or doing clown porn). For someone who’s a bit rigid (me), I viewed our differences in personality as the only deciding factor to never really pursue a closer friendship with her.

But ever since Mandy Mitchell and Hollie came to stay with me in LA almost a year ago, I’ve been getting to know a lot more about Hollie. And it turns out those differences in personality, aren’t things that I should try to avoid, they are characteristics I should strive to attain.

As I watched her snuggled under the blankets sleeping soundly, with only her bald head exposed to the air, my thoughts wandered.

I went back to think about my thought process about deciding to try to help Hollie through her battle against cancer.

When Mandy and Hollie were my houseguests, she’d casually mentioned having a lump in her breast that she needed to get checked out. I didn’t think much of it, until I head a few weeks later that she had breast cancer.

The day that I heard Hollie’s diagnoses, my mind immediately went back to when my mother had breast cancer in my early twenties. I remembered being so overwhelmed with a premature and misplaced grieving for the loss of my mom (she lived) that I was essentially a burden to have around. I was also heavily drinking during that time of my life, and lacked the ability to center myself or have any sort of perspective. Basically, because of my own self imposed handicaps, and that I love my mother very much, I failed at being a support to her, because I was unable to take myself out of the situation, I could only think about my feelings and how I would feel if she died. To this day, I regret that, and am amazed my mom never held it against me.

So as I sat there last night looking at Hollie, pondering her strength and fierce independent nature, a lot of other feelings and thoughts went through my mind.

Retrospectively, I had very strange reasoning to want to help Hollie. Because we had never really been that close, I thought that would make the experience of helping her feel “safe” for me somehow. Generally, if I don’t connect on a deeper level with someone fairly quickly, I really never do. So while I really respected, liked and appreciated Hollie with all of her wonderful and sometimes quirky characteristics, I thought I’d be able to do this without becoming too heavily emotionally invested.

Sometimes, I am amazed at my ability to deceive myself. Because over the last few months, that has proven to be anything but true. I am deeply emotionally invested now, which I’ve only really been honest with myself about over the last few days.

As I’ve watched Hollie gracefully navigate breast cancer, chemo, and today her mastectomy, I’ve also become more aware of her strengths, and beauty as a person.

Hollie’s ability to forgive the failings of the people around her who should be more supportive or present is incredible. I include myself in that group, as I have always been habitually late or forgetful, and much more so since my concussion. The day that I forgot to check to see if the diesel truck I was driving had fuel, and was driving her home from chemo comes to mind.. I couldn’t find a gas station that had diesel, and we ended up running out of gas in the middle of a small intersection in Cole Valley, about 1/4 mile from her house. Total FAIL on my part, I was mortified. She laughed about it. She actually wanted to help me push the two ton truck out of the middle of the intersection. Luckily some nice guys walking by helped us. Then not one, not two, but THREE tow trucks in a row showed up, and each of their diesel cans was empty, even though they’d been called out specifically to assist in the diesel debacle. I kept offering to get her a cab and send her home, but she hung out and was (I think) amused at the whole thing.

Mandy recently filled me in on the fact that apparently one day a month or so ago, I told Hollie I would cook her dinner, met her at Kink in the afternoon, dragged her through the Mission looking at stores, had a half of a cocktail at a late lunch which for some reason made me retardedly tipsy, then went home and went to bed. I still don’t remember saying I’d cook dinner, I rarely cook, so that was probably my bruised brain speaking. She never brought it up, but I’m glad Mandy did so I could apologize.

Hollie doesn’t act entitled, like the world owes her anything. It’s actually so incredibly refreshing to be around, and is a part of her magnetic charisma. Her ability to laugh and find the humor in situations that are anything but humorous to most sometimes makes me a bit uncomfortable, and other times make me want to adapt that behavior more in my own life, as I tend to get tunnel vision and lose perspective….

Later on the same day

I finally cried about this today. In fact, it’s been hard to stop now that it’s started. It’s not bad, it’s just a release of pent up feelings and anxiety over her surgery today, and my concern about what the next six months holds for her. I haven’t been sleeping well up until today, and after she came out ok, I was able to really sleep for a few hours. I woke up to an email that an anonymous person donated $1,000 to Hollie’s fund. And that’s when the tears started, because I am so thankful and grateful to every single person who is helping Hollie through her journey, either with financial contributions, or words of encouragement, and anything else.

I often only see the disgusting side of human nature, so when I’m reminded that people have the potential for so much good in them, it’s a bit overwhelming.

Thank you Hollie for being in my life. And thank you to everyone else who is a part of her healing process.

-JS

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