I first met Deb Jenkins at an aerobics class at the Y in the late 80s. She danced right behind the instructor, a little to the left. I could see her from my position in the back, and wed talk after class. I always thought she was cool.

Deb and I remained good friends throughout the years, through the Celebration of Women and Their Music and attending her awesome house parties, and even our infrequent but precious lunch dates.

One fall a few years ago, I let it slip that Id blown off my yearly mammogram because I was just too busy with everything else. A few days later the phone rang.

Susie this is Deb. I havent slept these last three nights thinking about you not getting a mammogram. Promise me youll get one.

Tears stung my eyes. Id forgotten.

Im not going to let one of my sisters fall through the cracks if I can help it, she said. Just promise me youll do it so I can sleep, OK?

You see, Deb is a breast cancer survivor.

Women dont talk about it much. We buy pink ribbons and dedicate October to its awareness. But in a very personal, everyday way? Not so much.

At the time, I didnt think it was a big deal, but now I understand that that phone call remains one of the most real, stripped down and powerful calls of my life.

For some reason, it went to my core, demonstrating how I could be taking better care of my body. My friend, my sister, really cared about my health, and she wanted me to care about it, too. She wanted me to not always put others first.

More here:
50/50: Don't fear conversations about health