June 10, 2011 - One Less Boob in The House

My husband once or twice (or maybe even several times) suggested that I start writing, or blogging. Something to do about my frustrations involving life and death and cancer and mothers and kids and husbands and people who just plain get on my nerves.

I have only one tit, one tata, one breast, one boob, one knocker... whatever the hell you want to call it. Kind of sounds like that George Thorogood song, "one bourbon, one scotch, one beer.." The left one got sliced off in August 2009. What's left of it is a barbed wire looking scar caved in enough to hold a drink of water.

Here's all the boring details for you. After all, don't you want to get to know me?

There I was, a single, never-married critter of about 42 or 43 years old when I went in for the second mammogram in my life. I had missed a year. I get a call to go back in, get punched in the breast with a biopsy needle and informed a couple of days later that I had cancer.

I was told I needed to select a surgeon. Ok, like I said, I was in my forties. I haven't had any kind of surgery since my tonsils were taken out. How the hell am I suppose to select a surgeon? Is there a dealership around for me to test drive one? Look under the hood? Kick his tires?

So, I look up an old high school boyfriend who grew up to be a doctor. Things got miscommunicated between the breast doctor and the surgeon, so I decided to haul my ass up to South Carolina with my fiance and have my breast removed at MUSC.

Now I'm married. To a widower. With three young kids. And a bunch of shirts that don't look right because I have only one breast.

I tried the reconstruction route. But that didn't work. It got infected and the tissue expander had to be removed. I've sworn off surgeries unless absolutely necessary. Especially after that beauty queen died on the table while having a butt lift.

I can live with one boob. I'm getting more confident with each day that goes by.

After all, what's to be ashamed of? So what if I obviously have one boob? It's taken me a considerable amount of time to adjust to it. To not even use a prosthesis. I had been making careful efforts to wear loose fitting tops so as to not draw attention to my abnormality. I can be self conscious. I also didn't want to upset others who may fear cancer or have been through it. But guess what? I'm saying "screw it". With the exception of Sunday mass attendance, I'm not making any effort to conceal my "defect".