Saving Graces

Excerpt The following is an excerpt from the				our schedule during the remaining eleven days until
book Saving Graces by Elizabeth Edwards				the election entailed stops in thirty-five cities. "It
Published by Broadway Books; September				could be exhausting." Stopping wasn't going to
2006;$24.95US/$32.95CAN; 0-7679-2537-8				make the lump go away, and exhaustion was a
Copyright Â© 2006 Elizabeth Edwards				word I had long ago banished from my
Chapter 1				vocabulary.
Kenosha				"I'm fine," I said. "And I'm getting this red blazer."
October 21, 2004				"You're braver than I am," she told me. "From
My face was tilted toward the stream of water				now on, I will always think of that blazer as the
from the shower-head. Water spilled from the				Courage Jacket." Within minutes, she was back on
corners of my closed eyes as my fingers outlined				the phone with Kathleen McGlynn, our scheduler in
the unfamiliar lump in my right breast. Around and				D.C., who could make even impossible schedules
around again, I traced its edges. Try as I might, it				work, telling her only that we needed some free
wouldn't go away. How could I have missed				time the next Friday for a private appointment.
something this size when I showered yesterday?				While I bought a suit and that red jacket,
Or the day before? Or . . . but it didn't matter. I'd				Hargrave set up an appointment with Dr.
found it today, this lump, firm and big on the side				Edmundson for the next week, when we were
of my breast. I kept my eyes closed and finished				scheduled to return to Raleigh. Through the phone
rinsing my hair.				calls and despite her worry, she still found a pale
Until that moment -- until the lump -- October 21,				pink jacket that suited her gentle nature perfectly.
2004, was meant to be an ordinary day, if such a				All the plans to deal with the lump were made,
thing can exist on a campaign trail two weeks				and the appointments were days away. I wanted
before a presidential election. An 11:00 A.M. town				to push it all aside, and thanks to Hargrave and
hall meeting at the Kenosha United Auto Workers				the thirty-five cities in my near future, I could. We
hall. A rally later that day in Erie, Pennsylvania.				gathered Karen and headed out for that ordinary
Scranton in time for dinner, and Maine by sunrise				day.
the next morning. I would speak to at least two				The town hall meeting went well -- except at one
thousand people, prepare to tape a segment for				point I reversed the names of George Bush and
Good Morning America, discuss Medicare				John Kerry in a line I had delivered a hundred
premiums with senior citizens, talk college tuition				times, a mistake I had never made before and
with parents, and, if it was a very good day,				never made after. "While John Kerry protects the
influence at least a few undecided voters. Just				bank accounts of pharmaceutical companies by
another ordinary day.				banning the safe reimportation of prescription
But I had learned long ago that it was typically the				drugs, George Bush wants to protect your bank
most ordinary days that the careful pieces of life				account . . . " I got no further, as the crowd
can break away and shatter. As I climbed out of				groaned, and one old man in the front
the shower, I heard the door to my hotel room				good-naturedly shouted out that I'd gotten it
click shut. I knew instantly who it was, and I was				backwards. "Oops." I said it again, right this time,
relieved. "Hargrave," I called out from the				and we had a good laugh. I looked at Hargrave
bathroom, wrapping myself in a towel, "come feel				and rolled my eyes. Was this how it would be for
this." Hargrave McElroy was my dear friend of				the next week? Fortunately, it was not. We flew
twenty-three years, my daughter Cate's				to an icy Pennsylvania, where the two town halls
godmother, a teacher at the high school my				went well enough, or at least without event. I had
children had attended, and now my assistant and				my legs again. And then on to Maine for the
companion on the road. She had agreed to travel				following day.
with me after John had been named the				I could tell by the look on the technician's face
Democratic vice presidential nominee. I had				that it was bad news. Hargrave and I -- and the
previously chased away a couple of				Secret Service agents -- had ridden to Dr.
well-intentioned young assistants who aroused my				Edmundson's office as soon as we landed back in
desire to parent them instead of letting them				Raleigh the following week, just four days before
take care of me, which was wearing me out. I				the election. I had told Karen and Ryan Montoya,
needed a grown-up, and I asked Hargrave to join				my trip director on the road, about the lump, and
me. She had no experience on campaigns, but she				the Secret Service agents knew what was going
was a teacher and what's more, the mother of				on because they were always there, though they
three boys. That's enough experience to handle				never mentioned a word about it to me or to
any job. Choosing Hargrave was one of the best				anyone else. Ryan had quietly disappeared to my
decisions I would make. She instinctively knew				house in Raleigh, and the Secret Service agents
when to buy more cough drops, when to hand				respectfully kept a greater distance as Hargrave
me a fresh Diet Coke, and, I now hoped, what to				led me inside. I was lucky because Wells
do after one discovers a lump in her breast.				Edmundson was not only my doctor, he was our
Hargrave pressed her fingers against the bulge on				friend. His daughter Erin had played soccer with
my right breast, which felt as smooth and firm as				our daughter Cate on one of the teams that John
a plum. She pressed her lips together and looked				coached over the years. His nurse, Cindy, met
at me directly and gently, just like she was				me at the back door and led me to Wells' office,
listening to a student in one of her classes give				dotted with pictures of his children.
the wrong answer. "Hmmm," she said, calmly				"I don't have the equipment here to tell you
meeting my eyes. "When was your last				anything for certain," Wells said after examining
mammogram?"				the lump. Ever the optimist, he agreed that the
I hated to admit it, but it had been too long, much				smooth contour I felt could be a cyst, and ever
too long. For years, I had made all the excuses				the cautious doctor, he ordered an immediate
women make for not taking care of these things				mammogram. His attitude seemed so very
-- the two young children I was raising, the house				positive, I was more buoyed than worried. As
I was running. We had moved to Washington four				Hargrave and I rode to a nearby radiology lab for
years earlier, and I had never found a doctor				the test, I felt fine. One thing I had learned over
there. Life just always seemed to get in the way.				the years: hope is precious, and there's no reason
All lousy excuses, I knew, for not taking care of				to give it up until you absolutely have to.
myself.				This is where the story changes, of course. The
"We better get that checked out as soon as we				ultrasound, which followed the mammogram that
can," Hargrave said.				day, looked terrible. The bump may have felt
I had a feeling she meant that very morning, but				smooth to my touch, but on the other side -- on
that was not going to be possible. We had less				the inside -- it had grown tentacles, now glowing a
than two weeks before the election. Undoubtedly				slippery green on the computer screen. The
people had already gathered in the union hall to				technician called in the radiologist. Time moved like
listen to the speakers scheduled before me, and				molasses as I lay in the cold examining room. I
there were young volunteers setting up for a				grew more worried, and then came the words
town hall in Erie, and -- as the King of Siam said in				that by this point seemed inevitable: "This is very
the musical -- "et cetera, et cetera, et cetera." My				serious." The radiologist's face was a portrait of
lump would have to wait; the ordinary day would				gloom.
go on as scheduled. Except for one thing. Today, I				I dressed and walked back out as I had walked in,
planned to go shopping.				through a darkened staff lounge toward a back
The previous evening, I had spotted an outlet mall				door where the Secret Service car and Hargrave
on our way to the hotel. We had spent the night				waited for me. I was alone in the dark, and I felt
in a Radisson -- a fact I discovered that morning				frightened and vulnerable. This was the darkest
when I read the soap in the bathroom. Since I				moment, the moment it really hit me. I had
started campaigning, it had been a different hotel				cancer. As the weight of it sank in, I slowed my
in a different city each night. We would arrive late,				step and the tears pushed against my eyes. I
traveling after it was too late to campaign, and				pushed back. Not now. Now I had to walk back
we would enter and exit most hotels through the				into that sunlight, that beautiful Carolina day, to
same back door used to take out the trash.				the Secret Service and to Hargrave, who would
Unless the trash dumpster bore the name of the				be watching my face for clues just as I had
hotel, I'd figure out where we were only if I				watched the image on the ultrasound monitor.
remembered to look at the soap in the bathroom.				"It's bad," was all I could manage to Hargrave.
As soon as we spotted the outlets, Hargrave,				As the Secret Service backed out onto the road
Karen Finney -- my press secretary -- and I				for home, Hargrave rubbed my shoulder and silent
started calculating. The stores would open at ten,				tears snuck across my cheeks. I had to call John,
and it was a ten-minute drive to the UAW hall.				and I couldn't do that until I could speak without
That left about forty-five minutes to shop. It				crying. The thing I wanted to do most was talk
wasn't a lot of time, but for three women who				to him, and the thing I wanted to do least was tell
hadn't been shopping in months, it was a gracious				him this news.
plenty. Despite the lump and everything it might				I had mentioned nothing to John earlier, although I
mean, I had no intention of changing our plan. We				spoke to him several times a day during the
had all been looking forward to the unprecedented				campaign, as we had for our entire marriage. I
time devoted to something as mindless, frivolous,				couldn't let him worry when he was so far away.
and selfish as shopping. The clothes I had in my				And I had hoped there would be nothing to tell
suitcase that day were basically the same ones I				him. Certainly not this. I had promised myself he
had packed when I left Washington in early July,				would never have to hear bad news again. He --
and it was now nearing November in Wisconsin. It				and Cate, our older daughter -- had suffered too
was cold, I was sick of my clothes, and, to be				much already. Our son Wade had been killed in an
honest, I wasn't particularly concerned about the				auto accident eight years earlier, and we had all
lump. This had happened before, about ten years				been through the worst life could deal us. I never
earlier. I had found what turned out to be a				wanted to see either of them experience one
harmless ?brous cyst. I had it removed, and there				more moment of sadness. And, after almost
were no problems. Granted, this lump was clearly				thirty years of marriage, I knew exactly how
larger than the other, but as I felt its smooth				John would respond. As soon as he heard, he
contour, I was convinced this had to be another				would insist that we drop everything and take
cyst. I wasn't going to allow myself to think it				care of the problem.
could be anything else.				Sitting in the car, I dialed John's number. Lexi Bar,
In the backseat of the Suburban, I told Hargrave				who had been with us for years and was like
how to reach Wells Edmundson, my doctor in				family, answered. I skipped our usual banter and
Raleigh. With the phone pressed to her ear, she				asked to speak to John. He had just landed in
asked me for the details. No, the skin on my				Raleigh -- we had both come home to vote and
breast wasn't puckered. Yes, I had found a small				to attend a large rally where the rock star Jon
lump before.				Bon Jovi was scheduled to perform.
At the Dana Buchman outlet, I looked through the				He got on the phone, and I started slowly.
blazers as Hargrave stood nearby, still on the				"Sweetie," I began. It's how I always began. And
phone to Wells. I spotted a terrific red jacket, and				then came the difference: I couldn't speak. Tears
I waved to Hargrave for her opinion. "The lump				were there, panic was there, need was there, but
was really pretty big," she said into the phone				not words. He knew, of course, when I couldn't
while giving me a thumbs-up on the blazer. There				speak that something was wrong.
we were, two women, surrounded by men with				"Just tell me what's wrong," he insisted.
earpieces, whispering about lumps and flipping				I explained that I had found the lump, had it
through the sales rack. The saleswomen huddled,				checked out by Wells, and now needed to have a
their eyes darting from the Secret Service				needle biopsy. "I'm sure it's nothing," I assured him
agents to the few customers in the store. Then				and told him that I wanted to wait until after the
they huddled again. Neither of us looked like				election to have the biopsy. He said he'd come
someone who warranted special protection --				right home, and I went there to wait for him.
certainly not me, flipping through the racks at				Excerpted from Saving Graces: Finding Solace and
manic speed, watching the clock tick toward				Strength from Friends and Strangers by Elizabeth
10:30. Whatever worry I had felt earlier, Hargrave				Edwards Copyright Â© 2006 by Elizabeth
had taken on. She had made the phone calls; she				Edwards. Excerpted by permission of Broadway,
had heard the urgent voices on the other end.				a division of Random House, Inc. All rights
She would worry, and she would let me be the				reserved. No part of this excerpt may be
naive optimist. And I was grateful for that.				reproduced or reprinted without permission in
She hung up the phone. "Are you sure you want				writing from the publisher.
to keep going?" she asked me, pointing out that

Dr Razz

Saving Graces