The nurses in the hospital were wonderful during my wife's overnight stay. One of the nurses taught me how to strip the drain tube attached to my wife's breast to prevent it from stopping up and this was my first experience at assisting personally in my wife's medical care. The second day of my wife's recovery the factory where she worked telephoned our home. There were some forms that I needed to pick up to fill out for her medical leave. On the way to pick up those forms and turn in her work uniforms I stopped at a market and purchased a thank you card and inserted the letter that I had typed explaining to the people just how their thoughtful gift of flowers and the card had lifted her spirits and indeed that was true, for the tears she'd shed when reading the card were from a sense of joy and awe that her coworkers held her in such high esteem. The receptionist in the factory asked me to wait while she went to get the Personnel manager. The Personnel manager was a warm and friendly lady who immediately inquired about my wife's condition. I told the lady that she was on the mend but that she was still in a great deal of discomfort from the surgery. She gave me the papers that would have to be signed and filled out. She had gone to the trouble of filling out most of the paperwork for us. I thanked her for her kindness and the card and flowers. I then gave the Personnel Manager the card which she read and handed to the receptionist to read while she read the letter that I had enclosed. Her eyes clouded with tears as she read the letter and I knew she'd reached the point where I'd described the moment of joy their thoughtful gift had brought to an otherwise gloomy day. She shared the letter with the receptionist who reacted in similar fashion. I thanked them both and asked that they inform my wife's coworkers as to her condition and her gratitude for their thoughtfulness. I reference this incident because it was an awakening of awareness for both my wife and myself. Neither of us really understood the esteem with which our friends, family and coworkers held us until that week. A week after the surgery my wife visited her surgeon for a follow up appointment. It was at this meeting that the surgeon told us he had good news. The cancer was hormone receptive and therefore he recommended *hormonal therapy*. Of course I had no idea what this meant and he had to explain it all. He recommended Tamoxifen to be taken for five years after the chemotherapy course was completed. The doctor assured us that this was very good news as it is easier to prevent a recurrence of a hormone receptive cancer. He also scheduled my wife for her first appointment with the oncologist in the neighboring city of Huntsville Alabama. Our first trip into the Huntsville oncology facility was simply amazing. To this day I can't forget the quality of the professionals that work in that section of the medical community. The doctor was great, but the protocol nurse was simply an angel. Indeed the entire staff worked diligently to treat patients who are more frightened than they have ever been in their lives. Their approach in my wife's case was to calmly work us through everything step by step. The protocol nurse advised her that she might want to look into a turban or wig, as the chemotherapy would cause hair loss. A week later we returned to oncology for my wife's first chemotherapy session. We'd heard all of the horror stories about how sick these treatments make the patients and it was with a great sense of dread that my wife took her first treatment which was administered via IV. I remember trying to cheer her up by talking quietly to her as the small IV bag dripped the medication into her body. I even managed to make another patient smile as I told my wife a joke I'd recently heard and saved to use upon that otherwise solemn occasion. It's funny some of the little things I remember. We were greatly encouraged in the days following that first chemotherapy session. Though my wife felt a bit queasy, there was none of the debilitating sickness that we'd heard so much about. We had yet to learn that the chemotherapy would have a cumulative affect and the sickness would get geometrically worse with each successive treatment. Soon enough we would experience that reality check. During this period of time my wife's sisters and nieces were a Godsend. They came to our home to help out in a major way with deep cleaning everything in the place. This was necessary because of the breakdown of a patient's immune system after losing so many lymph nodes and taking chemotherapy. Everything has to be as sanitary as humanly possible. Never being the greatest of house cleaners, I did what I could after work of course, but my efforts were terribly inadequate to our needs for perfection. My sister and mother also helped with the cleaning and often brought in meals as did my wife's sisters to insure that we had decent food while I experimented and learned to cook acceptable food. My wife had gone from surgical recovery to chemotherapy and was weak. None of us wanted her attempting housework or cooking if it was preventable. Continued in Part 4.