A Rhinestone Studded Evening

Bryan and I went to the JFCC-IMD inaugural awards dinner on Friday night. 2 months ago, this evening was to be the General's retirement party, and I told Bryan I wouldn't plan on it. I had no way of knowing what I'd be feeling like 5 weeks into radiation, right? And at 30 bucks a ticket, it wasn't the kind of thing I wanted to have to decline at the last minute.

1 month ago, it became both the General's retirement party, and the Christmas party for the command. Same price. I had the same answer.

2 weeks ago, it stopped being the General's retirement party, because he's no longer retiring. It continued to be the Christmas party and now it was also to be an awards dinner. And Bryan had been nominated for field grade Officer of the Year.

And I was feeling pretty good with the radiation.

So then:



The evening was a delight. They held it at a hall on the Air Force Academy campus and the meal was actually really delicious. The people seated at our table were very talkative, a few of them were very funny. I had a great time.

Bryan won the award. As he went to the front to receive it, I told James, who sat next to me, "Shout out for him to take his jacket off." And James did.

Everyone in the hall laughed. Then silence. Then I called out, "No, seriously, take it off!" and everyone laughed again. But it was a less confident laugh. A "What the heck are they talking about?" laugh.

What were we talking about?

Bryan's way-fab shirt, that's what. He had it tailored while in Korea. But he wouldn't take his jacket off up front. This is one way Bryan and I are different from each other.

He did remove it after returning to our table, and so James and I were vindicated for shouting out in the first place. If you ask me, Bryan may have won the award, but he missed his moment for fame.

But here was the highlight of my evening:

That Friday afternoon, I was talking with my friend, Mike, who mentioned that he'd seen a made-for-TV movie recently about the man who invented/developed Herceptin. This is the protein therapy, you may recall, that has single-drug-edly raised the survival rate of patients with this particular breast cancer from 23% to 83%.

We talked for a bit about medical research, and how humbled I am by it, especially by all the women who participated in the clinical trials that led to Herceptin becoming standard treatment. What a gift to me. From people I don't even know and can't even thank. Then our conversation moved along to the business at hand.

A few hours later, there I was, at the Air Force Academy, chatting with a couple during the

mingle time. They were Filipino Americans, and I mention this because, to my knowledge, only a Filipino woman would think to wear the following piece of jewelry at a formal military awards dinner: A giant, pink rhinestone studded ribbon pendant on a multi-colored rhinestone chain.

I said to her, "I notice your pendant."

She said back to me, "I am a survivor!"

I said, "I am on my way to becoming one myself." And with that, she launched into her war story, which focused mostly on her reconstruction surgery.

Then her husband mentioned, "She was part of the Herceptin trial, and now it is standard treatment."

The tears welled up. I couldn't believe it. Just couldn't. I hugged her and said, "Thank you, thank you for being part of that trial, I've always wanted to be able to thank the women who helped me this way."

What a gift to have met her. And the timing of it! God just doesn't stop.

And, hey, let's also hear it for giant, rhinestone studded pink ribbon pendants.