Sitting awaiting my first chemotherapy treatment for breast cancer, I was scared as hell. When the nurse came in I jumped, scanning her hands for whatever chemotherapy might look like. It turns out she wasn’t holding the clear liquid bag that would eventually drain into my veins; instead she had a Priority Mail package from my BFF Kristin. Inside was a cute little bag, some food and a card that made me laugh my ass off; it was an old looking photo of a woman surrounded by her kids in bathing suits, each one about to hit the pool. Inside it said, “Now remember kids, no running, no diving and no salt on my margaritas.” I held that card in front of me as the liquid made its way into my body. It was the funniest card and the simplest thing but it did monumental things for my attitude as I began the fight of my life.
