On September 20th, my boob (let’s call her Boo) and
I will be 66. It seems like only
yesterday when Boo was a simple nub, and I was more interested in my mother’s breast
than my own. In those years Boo and her
twin Hoo ran free allowing the wind to cool them in the heat of the Kansas City
summer.
Then, as time wore on, mother declared that I had to put a
shirt on so as not to entice the neighbor boys.
Mother was a bit premature in that it was MANY MANY MANY MANY years
before Boo and Hoo would have any effect on boys. But I went along with the gag and kept an eye
on their development. At age 11 mom
pretended I needed some support, strapping me into a “training bra”. She simply failed to explain what I was
training for. Then we started with the
alphabet going from a size A to a size A to a size A to a size A+.
High school was a “bust”!!
(Boo made me do it while Hoo objected).
I made it to a size B with a lot of help from Kleenex which wouldn’t
have been so bad except I forgot to remove it when I went into the swimming
pool. Try and explain floating soggy
pieces of tissue circling you like sharks.
College brought a bit more activity to the scene but Boo and Hoo were still
underutilized in my opinion.
After college, things perked up and so did Boo and Hoo. Finally, there was some enticing going on but
also disappointment in that I could have been going shirtless for over 21 years
without anyone noticing. And then there
was Mark. The guy who enticed me! With the births of Rachel and Ali, Boo and
Hoo went into full gear and I declared myself a “Woman”! What this means is I made it to a size C, at
least while I was nursing. For the first
time shirts were tight across my chest and I only needed Kleenex for their true
purpose, drying my tears of joy!
Then I hit 40, and then 50 or rather they hit me. First my waist expanded, then the thighs
enlarged, then the underarm flapping began.
I felt like I was a turkey being plumped up for an upcoming holiday. By
age 60 I was at my fighting weight…fighting to get below my delivery
weight. Boo and Hoo were thrilled as
they had reached their peak of performance.
Sadly, at this age there were no more neighbor boys to entice. And I’m sure I’m not exaggerating when I say
I saw a look of sadness in my GYNO’s eyes when I had my exams.
A little attention, that’s all B&H needed. And then I got it! After many years of clear mammograms, this
year’s exam proved to be lethal, but in a good way. Cancer, the size of a pin head, was detected in
Boo and the party began. I thought for
sure Boo and Hoo would explode or pop like pimples from all the compressions
they endured. Mentally I was doing okay
but physically….egh…not so much. Finding
a vein for blood draws or IVs was like mining for gold in the desert. Boo was subjected to a biopsy with little
complaint. Hoo felt bad for Boo but was
thrilled she didn’t have to have one.
Except for the EKG coming back as abnormal and being told I
had had a heart attack which turned out not to be true nearly giving me a heart
attack which would have been true had it been true. Then the breast MRI came back abnormal in Hoo
which took another year off of my life (not to mention what it did to Hoo) which
turned out not to be true but I was over having a heart attack had it been
true, which it was not.
The day of surgery arrived.
With Ali and 2 friends in tow, we marched into the hospital at 6:45 a.m.
I had to get the worst part over quickly, having my weight taken. After that trauma, I asked for a sedative as
I had 4 hours of procedures to endure before the actual surgery. I was told I had to be awake which caused
B&H to head for the exit with me following close behind. To no avail, we headed for the first
procedure…putting a wire in Boo to identify where the last of the cancer was hiding
after the biopsy disintegrated the tumor.
I swear I could hear Sirius radio stations coming out of that wire which
was quite calming. It was playing my
favorite music…Queen. I actually gave
the royal wave as I was being rolled from procedure to procedure.
Next up was the radiation room. When I was told Boo was going to get 6 needle
injections of radioactive dye, Boo and Hoo were actually BooHooing. But a boob has to do what a boob has to
do. Once the screaming subsided, I was
glowing….literally glowing! The best
part was that after the injections, Boo had to be massaged for 15 seconds every
15 minutes. I tried to convince the good
looking resident to help me accomplish this task, but I couldn’t entice
him. Perhaps I should have called one of
the boys from the old neighborhood that mother thought was enticeable.
Finally the time came for surgery. And would you believe it….that is when they
gave me the sedative….minutes before I was rolled into the operating room to be
given a general anesthetic. I apologized
up front for anything I might say due to the effects of the Versed. I’m told I said, “This is no way to spend my
birthday”, “Tell them I have a small throat”, and “Who is going to make me my
pineapple upside down cake for my birthday”.
Luckily I had nothing to apologize for which was a concern.
Surgery only took 45 minutes. But recovery, due to the double whammy of
Versed and the general took another 5 hours before I could return home. Boo is doing quite well, and the results are
all good. More fun is to come in terms
of radiation and such. Boo has had enough
attention to cover another 66 years. And I am working with Hoo trying to
explain that she is just as good as Boo but has her own talent and shouldn’t
compare herself to Boo.
Going forward, Boo and Hoo and I will be just fine. The BooHooing is over as is the glowing. Damn.
Life is good and the future is bright….but no glowing. Damn.
The many prayers and positive energy (but no glowing. Damn) made a difference
and continues to shine a light (but no glowing.
Damn) on me. Today is the best
day of my life. I’m still a size C and
ready for enticing! Call in the neighbor
boys!
