Storm in a B Cup - A Breast Cancer Tale (34 page)

Chapter 34

Colin and Mum
are sitting opposite me on the sofa. They’ve been in the house a grand total of
fifteen minutes, given out gifts, had the tour, grabbed a drink and now he’s
beginning the grilling. I was hoping his obsession only covered prosthetic
items but it appears he’s widened his interest to implants as well.

“So, what type
of implants are you getting?” he asks, flattening the hair that has now
returned to its natural snowy white.

“Ah, not sure
really.”

Which is true.
Dr. Clifford, my new P.S.
—
and I say that with a lump of sadness in my throat
—
is performing the procedure. I can’t wait. I’m
so excited. And I know nothing is going to go wrong this time. Apparently, the
clotting last time was caused because I’m a fast healer. I don’t have some
whacky blood disease.

“How can you
not know? It’s quite remiss of you not to be fully informed about your
surgery.”

This makes me a
bit peeved but I bite my tongue. Colin’s only showing he cares. As far as
step-fathers go, he’s one of the best.

“I don’t know
because I’m not having the implants done yet. Dr. Clifford is inserting tissue
expanders tomorrow to stretch my skin and make way for the implants. I’ll have
to go to his rooms every week and have them injected with saline until my chest
is a size I’m happy with. After that, he’ll remove the expanders and put in the
implants, at which stage, I suppose we’ll have some sort of discussion about
the type.”

I look over to Colin.
I’m surprised he hasn’t whipped out a recorder to help him recall each detail.

“He’s repairing
the hernia, too, isn’t he?” Mum asks.

“Yep.”

“And tell me
again, why that handsome Dr. Hanson isn’t performing the surgery?” She gives a
titter at the way that sounds.

Okay. What do I
say here?

Because we want
to shag each other’s brains out?

Because I’ve
cried on him so many times he’s had me reported as a stalker?

“Dr. Hanson’s on
holiday,” I lie. “He’ll be back by the end of the week though.” Just not as my
surgeon.

Last night,
after both our children were asleep, Jared rang. He asked if he could come and
visit me in the hospital, which I think was really sweet and very gentlemanly.
Of course, I said yes. I mean, as if you’d say no to that. I hope he arrives at
a time when I look like a human being. Though after the way I looked last time
I was there, he probably won’t care.

“So after the
surgery, you won’t need the prosthesis anymore?” Colin asks.

“Thank heavens.”

“Is there some
sort of recycling facility? Like they have for glasses? When your mother got
her eyes lasered they sent her frames to some place in Africa where they give
them to people who can’t afford to buy a pair.”

I hardly think
my fake boob is going to end up on some African woman’s chest. Wouldn’t it be
unhygienic?

“I don’t know
that such a program exists,” I say. “And anyway, I’m keeping my prosthesis.”

“What on earth
for?” Mum asks.

“Lani and I are
going to spray paint it fluorescent pink and hang it in a gilt frame in the
shop. It’s going to continue its life as a work of art. So in a way, it will be
recycled.”

“Oh my giddy
aunt!” A look of dismay crosses Mum’s face, which is slightly at odds with the
fact that she was the one who gave me a sex toy as a gift. “You can’t be
serious.”

“As serious as
I was about having Bon Jovi played at my funeral.”

Mum shakes her
head. I think she’s hoping I’ll change my mind but I won’t. As soon as I’m well
enough, I’m climbing that ladder and hanging my cancer on the wall for everyone
to see. I’m proud of what I’ve conquered this year. I want to celebrate my
life. And not when I’m dead.

*****

I’m sure I
stipulated I wanted a private room but when I wake from my surgery the next
afternoon, with three drains and a drip attached so I have no possibility of
escaping any time soon, I discover I’m still in the same room with the same awesome
view. The one that overlooks the second tier of the car park. That same
annoying woman who arrived this morning is still here, too. She’s on the door
side of the room and the privacy curtain’s drawn, yet the stench of cigarettes
from where she’s been outside is so overpowering it’s practically in bed with
me. She’s yelling over the divide as if the curtain didn’t exist. She hasn’t
stopped for long enough to comprehend that, even if I wanted to hold a
conversation, I’m incapable because I haven’t stopped throwing up since I got
back from theatre. I’m tired, I’m weak from dehydration and holding my stomach
every time I move and yet on she goes… blah, blah blah. I, seriously, wish
she’d shut it. She’s making it so hard for me to keep it together.

After I’ve
thrown up for what seems like the tenth time, I see the curtain move and I pray
she hasn’t decided to get out of bed and join me on my side of the room but it’s
Jared.
 
He’s finished his rounds
and decided he’d pop in on the way home. He slides into the narrow area between
the curtain and the bed. His shoulders seem to fill the small space as he stops
at the head. His smile is like daffodils on a spring day or honey on a crumpet.
I only wish I had the energy to return it.

“How are you
feeling? Dr. Clifford said everything went very well.” His voice is quiet, so
he can’t be heard by the woman in the other bed.
 
Not that that would stop her. Once she finishes telling the
nurses as loudly as she can how rude I am for not talking to her, I’m sure
she’ll be ducking her head around the curtain to enquire how he is.

I look up into
his face. For some reason, my stomach feels calmer now he’s here. “I’m good,
apart from being insanely tired and not being able to stop being sick. The poor
nurses have been run off their feet cleaning up my mess.”

“You don’t look
ill. You look beautiful.”

The urge to
giggle surfaces but I manage to control it by pressing my lips as firmly
together as I can. It’s a long while since I’ve been complimented. You tend to
forget how nice it makes you feel.
 
“Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Good. I like
to see the pink in your cheeks.”

Taking hold of
the bed rails, I attempt to shuffle up in the bed. I have this sudden need to
be closer to him, to feel his nearness. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“I can’t stay
long. It wouldn’t be good to raise eyebrows just yet.”

“No.” I run my
tongue over my lips.

“Would you like
some water?”

I wonder if
he’s like this with everyone or if he’s simply trying to impress me. I’m past
trying to impress. I’m trying not to fall asleep in the middle of his sentence.
That would be extremely bad manners.

“Yes, please,”
I mumble.

Jared lifts the
glass towards me and places the straw in my mouth. He glances at my chest and I
can see he’s dying to get a look at Dr. Clifford’s work to see if it’s as good
as he would have done.

“You can look
if you want. I won’t tell.”

He thinks twice
before declining. “I’d better not. I’d never be able to explain my way out of
it if a nurse comes in. There’ll be plenty of time for me to look at your
chest.”

Like an instant
dose of sunburn, the blush races from my forehead to my toes.

“I’ll hold you
to that,” I whisper, boldly.

“I’ve no doubt
you will.”

“As soon as I
can get out of the bed.”

“I could get in
it.”

I gasp in mock
horror. “That’s not very professional.”

 
“I’m not your doctor, remember?” He’s
smirking now, enjoying my discomfort. I’m more worried about my reaction to his
words. I’m
 
a grown woman, for heavens
sake. A bit of playful banter shouldn’t have me behaving like a coy school
girl.

I take a few sips
of water and sink back onto the pillow, exhausted from the flirting. The
water’s cool and refreshing, soothing my angry throat. But only for thirty
seconds. Because it’s then the water comes back up, and along with the
remaining bile in my stomach it spews down the front of Jared’s shirt. He’s
seen me naked and scared. He’s seen me with one boob. Now he’s witnessing me
vomiting over him, which can’t be a good start to any relationship.

On the flip
side, if this doesn’t scare him away, I guess nothing will.

“Good shot,” he
says, as he puts down the glass and holds the sick bag for the next round. He presses
a button for the nurse. “Can’t say I’ve ever had that reaction from a woman
before.”

“First time for
everything,” I say, before heaving one more time.

“Hopefully
there’ll be a lot more firsts for us,” he answers with a slight squeeze of my
hand.

Shit, now he’s
made me cry. He’s going to think I’m some sort of nutcase, laughing
 
in one breath and sobbing the next.
“Can you pass me a tissue?”

“Was it
something I said?”

“No.” I
sniffle. “Just the hormones.”

But we both
know I’m lying. I’m just so overwhelmed, I could cry for a week.

A while later,
after we’ve both been cleaned up, and he’s talking to me about something I can’t
comprehend because words are foam inside my head, Mum, Colin and Rory arrive. The
tiny space is suddenly heaving with people much to the disgust of my roommate
who can no longer talk to the curtain without seeming like a loon. Colin’s
pinched her visitor chair, too, which causes a disgruntled huff from her side
of the room; one I’m sure I’ll be hearing well after the visit is over.

“You’re back
from your holiday, then?” Mum asks Jared, as she gives his damp shirt a longer
than necessary glance.

Jared glances
at me before answering. “Ah, yes. It was more of a work thing. I couldn’t get
out of it.”

Phew. Clearly
he can read minds as well as make boobs because I was channelling that answer
to him.

“Well, it’s lovely
to see you back. There’s nothing like a nice strong doctor to hold your hair
back when you’re feeling poorly.”

“It was either
that or let Sophie vomit over it. There wasn’t a great deal of time to call a
nurse.”

Over in the
corner, Colin has made himself comfortable, oblivious that his wife is flirting
with a man half his age. As Mum twitters and flits like a girlish bird, Colin swings
an ankle over his knee, giving us a full view. Beneath his funky new
short-shorts he’s decided going commando was a good option for the day. He also
appears to have had a bit of manscaping done in the pubic department.

“But you’re feeling
better now, Sophie?” he enquires, casually.

Well, I was
before I got an eyeful of his privates.

“Yes, thanks,”
I say. I know it’s bad manners but I can’t look at him as I say it. I’m so shocked
by what I’ve seen I can’t look at anybody. I grab the sick bag and heave into
it again.

“What type of
implants will you be giving Sophie, Dr. Hanson?” Colin asks, oblivious that his
parts are on display.

Now it’s
Jared’s turn. He looks at Colin and looks away. He’s going to laugh. I know he
is. “We have to wait until the expansion’s complete. Then we can determine
brand, size and shape. It depends on what looks best with Sophie’s body type.”

“It sounds like
an interesting procedure. Do you think I’d be able to sit in? You know, in the
operation, like?”

Jared shakes
his head. How he’s managing to hold a conversation with Colin’s third eye
staring at him is beyond me. The whole situation is so surreal; I’m beginning
to think the anaesthetic is playing tricks with my mind.

“Probably not.
The operating theatres are quite small. There’s really only room for staff.”

At which I hide
my face in the blanket because I know for a fact they’re massive. I’ve seen the
 
inside of nearly every one in the
city over the past year.

“That’s a
pity.” Colin adjusts his position in the chair causing his level of exposure to
reach heights even a porn star couldn’t ignore. “I have the greatest admiration
for the work you do. It takes balls to play with a person’s life.”

“Oh shit,” I say,
causing Mum to bounce from her chair and send Rory flying to the floor where he
sits for a second probably wondering how he got there.

“Are you all right,
darling?”

“Fine,” I
reply, indicating the floorshow Colin is now giving the entire ward, including
the orderly who’s come to empty the waste bin.

Mum swings
around, a puzzled look on her face. Then she twigs. “Oh for Pete’s sake, Colin!
Can you tuck yourself in, please? Sophie doesn’t need to see your man bits,
especially when she doesn’t have a man of her own. You’ll put her off her
dinner.”