Friday, June 8, 2012

Tee Hee (Breast Cancer Humor)

I wrote a profoundly depressing post this morning, a continuation of the past one.  I thought better of it, clicked on "save," and hopped into the shower.

I had two appointments, one for spiritual direction and the other for which I had set aside four hours to spend in the dentist's chair.  As I was dressing for the latter ~ jeans and a comfortable t-shirt ~ I was interrupted by a phone call from the dentist's assistant, who needed to reschedule; the building is doing some maintenance and there is no AC, making dentistry both miserable and ineffective.  It took us quite awhile to find another date (six weeks away!), and so I had to hurry to finish dressing.

Now, you need to know a bit of the back story: as a result of my mastectomy, I decided to have reconstruction via implant, which was finally completed at the end of February.  The implant side is not a match for the real side, and so I am now in possession of what is called a "partial prosthesis."  A blogger whom I read refers to her prostheses as her "FOOBS" ~ fake boobs ~ so I guess you could say that I have a partial FOOB. You may interpret the "F" as you please.

(As an aside, my partial foob led to an angry and humorous exchange with an insurance company representative.  The anger?  He told me that I was entitled to only one prosthetic device every two years, and the "inside one" was it.  I reminded him of federal law, and insisted coverage was mandated for the "outside one" as well.  The humor?  By the time I finished, he was so rattled that I had to spell the word "breast" for him.)

Anyway, you've probably guessed it.  I went off to meet with my directee and, as I unlocked the door of the office in which we meet, I glanced down and ~ !!!!!!!!!! ~ I had just walked confidently across the John Carroll campus in the beautiful sunshine wearing a t-shirt with, yes, only one side of my chest intact.


I raced to the bathroom for some tissues, it turned out that my directee had written down the wrong time, and I headed back to my car, purse held over my front.

As I left the campus, several young mothers were walking across the parking lot, little daughters in tow.  Some kind of camp program, I'm sure.  They all looked so sweet and innocent.  I'm sure they all aren't (see previous post). But they did make me long for the days when going out in pubic was a good deal simpler.


  1. Ugh...I'm so sorry you've had so much trouble with your foobs. Since my little surgery, my foobs are shelved for a few weeks. Reminds me of how the other half lives...just tossing on a tshirt after hopping out of the shower. No undergarments up top to slow them down. I hate this for you...praying you get things settled and symmetrical soon. Hugs! ps..I'm glad you like my word. I like it too. : )

  2. Your story of your jaunt with foobs un-intact reminded me of a jaunt of my own -- I am a young clergy mama, and I'm nursing my little guy (yay!). A few weeks ago I had gone out and about running errands, etc. After an hour, I realized that I had not adjusted my nursing top back as it should have been. And then I spent a long time worrying about who I had run into while improperly adjusted.

    (And let's not talk about the time a parishioner came into my closed office without knocking -- the lock hadn't caught properly, but the door was closed -- and oh, yes, I was pumping away, making milk. Awk.ward. I keep telling myself, at least it was a woman, and she is sworn to secrecy. YEESH.)