My Guardian Angel

My Guardian Angel

From Chicken Soup for the Breast Cancer Survivor's Soul

My Guardian Angel

Grow old with me; the best is yet to be.

Robert Browning

I have always been a very modest person and always will be.

The nurse told me, “You can get up and go to the bathroom on your own now.” Doug, my husband, was there to help me get up and out of bed, my right arm dangling loosely and chest wrapped tightly following my mastectomy. I felt like a mummy on one side.

I decided I could go it alone and moved forward to the bathroom, very embarrassed because my rear end was flashing.

I said, “Honey, don’t you say a word.”

He did. “Sweetie, I like that gown so much, maybe we can find you another one at the store when you get out of here.”

With my humor back in place, I replied, “Well, if we’re really lucky, maybe they will leave my fanny alone for now.”

We both hee-hawed, and that’s the way we continued to handle the situation.

When we did go home, I must admit I had a hard time allowing him to help me with my bandage, but, of course, it was not something I could do for myself. As he gently bent over me, the tears were rolling down my face, and he did the most astonishing thing: he leaned down, kissed my bandage and said, “Nanci, I am so thankful for that scar! Every time I look at it, I thank God, because if you didn’t have it, I would have lost you. So there is no reason for us to feel anything but praise to God for the surgery. It has saved your life.”

I believe that God, knowing the adversity that has been in my life way before my marriage and since, sent a special man to me. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if my husband is also my very own guardian angel. I’m thankful for him every day. Through seventeen years as a survivor and forty-seven years of marriage, we are still thanking God for the surgery and for each day, one day at a time.

Nanci L. Stroupe

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