Breast Reconstruction – Take 62
Yesterday, my mom and I were driving back from one of our housecleaning jobs.
“I need to go to the Dutch store up in Lynden,” I said. “I need to get some more soup, Nasi Goreng, and maybe some capucijners. Do you want to come with me?”
Ignoring me, she replied, “I need a new boob. My prosthesis is falling apart, so I need to replace it.”
Let’s just say that my mom is a bit ahem… well… smaller-chested than me. When she got breast cancer a long time ago, she didn’t even bother to have breast reconstruction done (like I did) because she said it wasn’t worth it. Still, how could I tell her what I was about to tell her delicately so as not to hurt her feelings? Then again, since when was I delicate?
“Mom, I’ve got it. I’ll get my old prosthesis back from my friend, Rich—I gave it to him for his birthday—and you can chop it in half and make two new boobs. You’ll be all set.”
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