Breast Cancer Stole My Bling

Breast Cancer Stole My Bling
I have skinny wrists, so I've never gotten into the habit of wearing bracelets. I seldom get a manicure, so I don’t wear rings that draw attention to my hands. And I can’t remember the last time I wore a necklace. Diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but for whatever reason, I’ve never been into bling. For me, there’s been only one jewel that mattered. And breast cancer stole it. Long before that happened, I spotted a guy on an airplane. Back in those days, I lived in Manhattan and traveled frequently for work. I always booked a window seat so that I could barricade myself from other passengers. With a window on one side and a briefcase on the other, I seldom got trapped in long conversations. My briefcase was serious and kind of ugly — a man-sized box of leather. It kept most guys away. On a flight from Portland to New York, though, a passenger caught my eye. When we landed, he plopped into the empty seat next to me and asked what I thought of the movie. Two nights later, we had dinner before he had to fly home to San Francisco. It wasn’t long before I quit my job and headed west. When Gary bought me a diamond and asked me to be his wife, I vowed I’d never take that ring off. Smart, funny, and kind, he surpassed all my hopes. I had hit the jackpot. The ring is a beauty. Delicate lace-like fronds hold an exquisite diamond in place, and the band is scarcely wider than a cord of embroidery floss. I’ve never seen anything like it. “The jeweler said it’s over 100 years old,” Gary told me, and we wondered about its history. I like knowing my ring has thrilled other women and will again after my time with it is done. Five years ago, though, the ring started getting tight, and not because marriage was making me itchy. Chemother
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