From
a fellow survivor . . .
I don't know if this will strike anyone else as funny, but I sure thought
it was. I had very, very large breasts. I hated them. I was saving up
my money to do a breast reduction when I found "The Lump." It turned out
to be an eight centimeter (!) malignant tumor.
My surgeon told me,
with a long face, that I really should consider a mastectomy. He was surprised
by my chipper attitude, and by the fact that I battled the insurance company
to make sure that I could have a double mastectomy. (No one makes prostheses
in the size of my former breasts.)
The afternoon of my
surgery, as they were starting the anesthetic and my surgeon was giving
me some last words of reassurance, I tugged on his sleeve. "Doc, Doc!"
I gasped. "There's something I gotta get off my chest!"
The whole operating
suite (everyone knew how I felt about my breasts) cracked up. I got LOTS
of T.L.C. from everyone during my hospital stay and became a legend for
cracking up the O.R. staff.
Aloha,
Catharine Honeyman
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