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Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Dubious Gift

Dear Left Breast,

Don't think that I blame you, or that you have been singled out and punished. I know you have been squashed in countless mammos, ultrasounded, and pierced for a biopsy. You've been surgically sliced and diced, had a wire jabbed into you, as well as an implanted metal marker. You've been stitched and attached to drains. You've been flushed with toxic chemicals, squashed some more, then trussed up into plastic and velcro and radiated by the VARIAN True Beam until you resemble a brown coconut, blistered and spotted. All this is true. But we have been in this together, all for the best and we can hope it will be the last of it, after today's scans. This body has sometimes felt like a battlefield, with skirmishes breaking out: shin, shoulder, armpit, scalp, tummy, tongue - but peace will come.

Eventually, I'm told, you will go back to resembling Right Breast again, smoother and pinker, and less mottled. You will be poked and prodded less frequently. We shall both forget the indignities of illness, the receptionists who called us "Hon" and only remember the compassion, humor, and sweetness of the professionals who helped heal us. We will think of all the loving family and friends who gave us prayers, smiles, cards, gifts, and laughs, especially the laughs. We will remember the colleagues and students who showed their kindness in myriad ways.

We will never again go sunbathing topless in the South of France, but we probably wouldn't have anyway, at this age, even without the dubious gift of a life adventure like breast cancer. We will instead cherish every sunrise and sunset over the lake and river and sea, fully clothed, and grateful.

Love, me.