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and pizza can indeed be a breakfast food when I’m in a rush to get my kids to school on time. I’ve learned that lipstick is as indispensable as my eyelash curler, and that I really don’t need to use conditioner in my hair.
    But most of all, I’ve learned that the reason I’m here is simply to love and be loved in return. All the rest of life…the ups and downs, the checks that bounce and the raise that doesn’t cover the cost of living, the messy teen’s room and the Magic Marker stain on the carpet, the Kool-Aid spilled on the couch and the bottle of $100-an-ounce perfume your son used to bathe the dog…none of it matters. Not in the face of love.
    Sure, love-is-all-you-need sounds like an old Beatles tune. But it really does make life worth living. That’s what I’ve learned. And I wouldn’t trade my wisdom for turning back the clock.

10
    Lily
    “Y ou do realize there’s a wire—a wire —protruding from my right breast, don’t you?” I looked up at Michael and then stared down at this thing—this thin wire, looking like the stuff the orthodontist once threaded through my braces—that was now threaded into my breast and sticking out about eight inches.
    “Very weird-looking. Does it hurt?”
    “Oddly enough, no.”
    “And the reason for turning your breast into something that would set off the metal detectors at JFK is?”
    “It pinpoints the lump exactly and guides the surgeon right to it.”
    In the time since my mammogram, I’d gone to a breast surgeon who decided to remove the lump instead of just doing a needle biopsy. So now I was waiting for them to come and put me to sleep. When I woke up, I would either have cancer—or not.
    “Promise me you won’t let them chop my breast off.”
    “Dr. Costas told you that won’t happen.”
    “Uh-huh. Look, I like him and everything, but I’ve read plenty of horror stories about doctors taking out the wrong kidney or chopping off the wrong leg.”
    “Lily, Dr. Costas is one of the best surgeons on the East Coast.”
    “I know. But maybe he’s a closet alcoholic.”
    “It’s eight o’clock in the morning. Even you won’t drink a martini this early.”
    “He could still be drunk from last night.”
    “Does he seem drunk?”
    “No.”
    A very pretty nurse with short blond hair and a colorful blue and purple smock walked past. Michael caught her eye—easy for him to do since most women are rendered speechless by his good looks. “Excuse me…”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “Do you have a Valium or something you can give my friend? She’s working herself into a frenzy.”
    “I don’t want a Valium,” I snapped at him. “I want to wake up with both my breasts!”
    The nurse approached my gurney, which was in a little curtained alcove. “Would you like something to calm you down? You’ll be going into surgery in about a half hour.”
    “Well…maybe. A martini?”
    She laughed, revealing two deep dimples in her cheeks. She glanced at Michael and then down at me. “Um…no martini, but I can give you something to make you sleepy.”
    “She’ll take it,” Michael said insistently.
    The nurse disappeared and returned with a syringe. I already had an I.V. She uncapped the needle and inserted it into the I.V. line. Within a minute, I was seeing double.
    Michael thanked the nurse and then stroked my forehead. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
    “Don’t go getting all mushy on me,” I whispered sleepily.
    “I’m not. I’m stating a fact.”
    “Yeah. Remember that boyfriend I had who stole my underwear?”
    He laughed. “Remember the time I tried to add highlights to my hair? The Duran Duran look?”
    “Not pretty. Only a best friend would stand by you after that.”
    I shut my eyes for a second and felt myself drifting off. Michael’s hand on my forehead connected me to reality even as I floated toward dreamland.
     
    “Push!” Michael screamed at me from somewhere in my memories. I glared at him. He had a cool compress on