Breast Cancer

     Page Fourteen.
     Late autumn of '08....
     My oldest sister spent a lot of time with the Stones when she was a teen. They lived a mile away, had a ton of kids and Mom was into dance. My sister, Louise*, was very good school friends with two of the daughters and had dance in common with Mom. So from the early 1960's, the Stone's home was one of Louise's homes as well. The Stone girls also spent a certain amount of time at our place. Which means that they saw me in diapers. (My diapers were always hanging somewhere around my knees according to EVERYBODY.)  
     Through word of mouth (which means it's a separate story) one of those daughters called me in autumn of '08 to help her and her family. Shawna had recently been diagnosed with Breast Cancer, was a full-time pediatrician, had three kids - two still at home, a non-emotional husband, a cat and a cluttered house. She felt that if she had some help with dinner and the girls it would give her a break so she could enjoy her life. She certainly knew my family and had been updated to my current resume. So, she called me and explained the situation.
     About two or three months after I started, she went in for her surgery. She'd decided to have a double mastectomy even though the ca wasn't that advanced. She felt that with her family history it was better to be safe than sorry so she took the radical step.
     Perhaps two days after arriving home, we were standing in the kitchen, talking about the procedure. Now, let me remind you, she had vivid memories of my naked two year old body Also, she was ten years older than me, so in her mind I was an old friend, regardless of the fact that I had no old memories of her. Additionally, anyone who has any number of conversations with me will eventually pick up on the fact that I have an aptitude for and high comfort level with medicine, simplistic and uneducated as it is. So midway through our conversation, she unbuttons her blouse to show me all her bandages.
     I've seen a lot over the years. I worked in the hospital and saw many bandages, wounds and various states of black & blue. But I simply wasn't prepared for her to show me what she showed me. And I guess my expression illustrated my discomfort. She immediately said, "I shouldn't have shown you my bandages, should I've, Jeremy?"
     "I just wasn't prepared."
     "I understand." With that, she buttoned back up and we continued our conversation.
     I've always felt bad that I was perhaps inappropriately uncomfortable. I certainly always try to be as supportive and empathetic as I can be to anyone who's having medical problems of any nature. It just took me by surprise. I'm positive that my discomfort was absolutely nothing compared to her discomfort, fear, anger anxiety, etc.
     It's now four years later. I saw her at temple recently and she's doing great. Just a couple more years 'till she retires. She said she's counting down the months. She wants to travel.


     *Incidentally, all names in these blogs are fake except my own. I do this to protect the guilty. Everyone knows my guilt so I don't need protecting.