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five more seconds;

we stopped time;

to chase these truths

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An innocent soul needs to post something un-wang related.
five more seconds;
Okay, I don't have that many people on my Email contacts, but as I've got tonnes of people on my Flist, I'm putting this here. Dad sent it to me. And it's kind of like... Important. So, read it, and get the message. For the people a cure was too late to save, and for the people that it will. Also, keep in mind that Breast Cancer can be hereditary in some cases, and my mother happened to have Breast Cancer, as did my Grandmother and Great Grandmother. So, if you don't care much or have never actually been affected by cancer, which I doubt, think of it as a possible Save A Varis fund.

Subject: The Stamp
Please read the following story and follow the instructions
at the end! Thanks.

Like most elementary schools, it was typical to have a
parade of students in and out of the health clinic
throughout the day. We dispensed ice for bumps and bruises,
Band-Aids for cuts, and liberal doses of sympathy and hugs.
As principal, my office was right next door to the clinic,
so I often dropped in to lend a hand and help out with the
hugs. I knew that for some kids, mine might be the only
one they got all day.

One morning I was putting a Band-Aid on a little girl's
scraped knee. Her blonde hair was matted, and I noticed
that she was shivering in her thin little sleeveless
blouse. I found her a warm sweatshirt and helped her pull
it on. "Thanks for taking care of me," she whispered as she
climbed into my lap and snuggled up against me.

It wasn't long after that when I ran across an unfamiliar
lump under my arm. Cancer, an aggressively spreading kind,
had already invaded thirteen of my lymph nodes. I pondered
whether or not to tell the students about my diagnosis. The
word breast seemed so hard to say out loud to them, and the
word cancer seemed so frightening.

When it became evident that the children were going to find
out one way or another, either the straight scoop from me or
possibly a garbled version from someone else, I decided to
tell them myself. It wasn't easy to get the words out, but
the empathy and concern I saw in their faces as I
explained it to them told me I had made the right decision.
When I gave them a chance to ask questions, they mostly
wanted to know how they could help. I told them that what I
would like best would be their letters, pictures and

I stood by the gym door as the children solemnly filed out.
My little blonde friend darted out of line and threw
herself into my arms. Then she stepped back to look up into
my face "Don't be afraid, Dr. Perry," she said earnestly,
"I know you'll be back because now it's our turn to take
care of you."

No one could have ever done a better job. The kids sent me
off to my first chemotherapy session with a hilarious book
of nausea remedies that they had written. A video of every
class in the school singing get-well songs accompanied me
to the next chemotherapy appointment. By the third visit,
the nurses were waiting at the door to find out what I would
bring next. It was a delicate music box that played "I Will
Always Love You."

Even when I went into isolation at the hospital for a bone
marrow transplant, the letters and pict ures kept coming
until they covered every wall of my room.

Then the kids traced their hands onto colored paper, cut
them out and glued them together to make a freestanding
rainbow of helping hands. "I feel like I've stepped into
Disneyland every time I walk into this room," my doctor
laughed. That was even before the six-foot apple blossom
tree arrived adorned with messages written on paper apples
from the students and teachers. What healing comfort I found
in being surrounded by these tokens of their caring.

At long last I was well enough to return to work. As I
headed up the road to the school, I was suddenly overcome
by doubts. What if the kids have forgotten all about me?
wondered, What if they don't want a skinny bald principal?
What if . . . I caught sight of the school marquee as I
rounded the bend. "Welcome Back, Dr. Perry," it read. As I
drew closer, everywhere I looked were pink ribbons -
r ibbons in the windows, tied on the doorknobs, even up in
the trees. The children and staff wore pink ribbons, too.

My blonde buddy was first in line to greet me. "You're back
, Dr. Perry,
you're back!" she called. "See, I told you we'd take care
of you!"

As I hugged her tight, in the back of my mind I faintly
heard my music box playing . . "I will always love you."

Subject: Breast Cancer Stamp Booklet

We need those of you who are great at forwarding on
information with your e-mail network. Please read and pass
this on. It would be wonderful if 2004 were the year a cure
for breast cancer was found!!!!

This is one email you should be glad to pass on. The notion
that we could raise $35 million by buying a book of stamps
is powerful! As you may be aware, the US Postal Service
recently released its new "Fund the Cure" stamp to help
fund breast cancer research. The stamp was des igned by Ethel
Kessler of Bethesda, Maryland. It is important that we take
a stand against this disease that affects so many of our
Mothers, Sisters and Friends.

Instead of the normal 37 cents for a stamp, this one costs
40 cents The additional 3 cents will go to breast cancer
research. A "normal" book costs $7.40. This one is only
$8.00.. It takes a few minutes in line at the Post Office and
means so much. If all stamps are sold, it will raise an
additional $35,000,000 for this vital research. Just as
important as the money is our support. What a statement it
would make if the stamp outsold the lottery this week. What
a statement it would make that we care.

I urge you to do two things TODAY:

1. Go out and purchase some of these stamps.

2. E-mail your friends to do the same.

Many of us know women and their families whose lives are
turned upside-down by breast cancer. It takes so little to
do so much in this drive.

We can all afford the $0.60. Please help & pass it on.

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This is such a sweet story...

My family already buys those stamps. My great Grandmother had Breast Cancer (and was a survivor) as well as my grandmother. We're praying it stops with mom's generation... I was one of those people parading around with a little pink ribbon all october.

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