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| The Door |
Prior to his arrival, I’d been sitting with my sister Sue in
side-by-side guest chairs. I was wearing a striped hospital gown with my arms
folded across my chest, and she was happily chatting away. She was making jokes
about boob jobs and I was laughing in that nervous way one does when they
haven’t accepted the reality of the situation. Jokes that are funny, as long as
they don’t actually occur.
The room was small. A little desk, two chairs, one rolling
stool. The biggest item in the room was an examining table that lay quietly in
the corner, just a few feet away. I was trying too ignore its’ presence. After
all, I was only there for a ‘consultation’ and didn’t intend to actually get
out of my chair. Exam tables are not something I like to be on. Control is
taken away and is replaced by vulnerability. Fantasy, once something at arms
length, now becomes a possibility. Security is replaced with uncertainty as you
learn to search for your fate in someone else’s eyes.
 |
| The Monster |
It was on an exam table that my doctor first found a lump.
And it was on an exam table when they found the second one. And it was my
experience on many an exam table that once I sat up, the news would
not be good. The exam table is the sleeping monster in the
corner of the room, and as long as I don’t go near it, I will probably be okay.
Dr H patiently told me all about the DIEP
procedure, and kindly answered all my questions, as well as all of Sue’s. His gentle
manner (blue eyes, cute accent) made me feel safe and reassured. And then he
asked me to hop up on the table. Thud went my heart – it was time to wake the
monster. So I took a deep breath, climbed
up on the table, and opened my robe. Even though Dr H was just checking to see
if I had enough fat (I did), I was no longer in my safe place. The door to
reality had opened, and I started to cry.
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| The Gown |
The only difference in the room, this time, was the absence of fear. I had none, and I could see each element
with clear eyes. The exam table in the corner, was just a table, and if I sat on
it, nothing bad would occur. The door, when it opened, wasn’t taking me to
places I didn’t want to go.
But as the room didn’t change, neither apparently did my
ultimate reaction. Dr H came in the room and shook my hand. We had a nice talk
and he asked if I was happy. (I looked into his pretty eyes and tried to
picture him with his shirt off). I told him that everything was great, and he
asked if he could check my new nipples.
‘You don’t need to get up’ he said, 'Just stay in the chair.'
So because I was so happy, I took a deep breath, opened my hospital gown, and cried.
