I like this joke:
A man is taking a trip around the world. He calls home from London, to talk to his brother. He asks how things are going at home but especially about his cat, whom he's left in his brother's care. "How's Fluffy?" the traveler asks.
"The cat died," says the brother.
"WHAT? How can you tell me something that important and heart-breaking just like that? Good grief. I loved that cat. Couldn't you have broken it to me more gently? Especially while I'm away from home?"
"What should I have said?" says the brother at home.
“You could have told me first that somehow the cat got up on the roof and you’d been trying to get her down. And then when I got to Rome you could have told me that she fell off the roof. And then when I called you from Athens, you could tell me the cat wasn’t doing well. And then when I got to Moscow you could have told me, 'Bob, I'm so sorry, but the cat didn't get any better. He has died.' That would have been much better than to just blurt it out."
"I'm sorry," says the brother. "I'll try to be more sensitive."
"That's ok. So, how's Mom?"
"Um, Mom's up on the roof."
So I was sitting in an examining room the other day, waiting for my first meeting with a surgeon to find out what the results of my biopsies meant, when a person in a white coat came in. She introduced herself as "Person Name" from Cancer Research and launched into a sales pitch about my joining a study that they'd be doing. She had a lot of paperwork to put in my lap and she talked about breast fluid aspiration and the amount of blood they'd be taking from me during surgery and how I wouldn't need any extra post-op visits because they'd get what they need when I came in after.
I said, "Um, I didn't even know I was HAVING surgery until you came in."
She looked a little shocked but replied quickly, "Well, Dr. Hwang said that you . . ."
"You're ahead of me, lady, because I haven't even MET Dr. Hwang."
She mumbled a little more, and I continued, "Why don't you take all your papers and go, and when Dr. Hwang comes in to tell me that I'm having surgery, I'll act surprised."
She scurried out. When the physician's assistant came in with a cursory apology about the researcher having gotten my name mixed up with someone else's, I felt VERY comforted.
Prior to surgery, I will go ahead and have my patient number tattooed on my shoulder and use a Sharpie© to write "TAKE THIS ONE" on my right breast.
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Everyone's a critic. My "smart-ass" email program sent your email with this link directly to my "junk" folder. But this is definitely not junk. (You know I'm serious when I use an adverb).
Hurrah for you, patwente! Isolation (which is different from solitude) makes people sick. Community heals. In my college intro to anthropology class the professor said, "one chimpanzee is no chimpanzee," meaning, you could not understand anything about primates by studying just one. Everything was about interaction. We are social animals. And, you are one of the most gifted people I've ever met at being social. (I won't delve into the primate connection, but anybody who's seen your monkey obsession knows your, er, problem.)
So many of the things that matter to me--and yes, this is all about me, even though it's supposed to be about you, your breast and your blog--since I turned 30, I learned about or was encouraged to do by you. I learned how to be a good boss. I learned to take more professional risks. I learned to trust my instincts at work. I learned that people without a spotless track record can make and keep really great marriages. I learned about how to say good-bye to your parents. And, I learned that people for some unfathomable reason actually hollow out cherry tomatoes and put stuffing in them. I know this CAN be done, but I'm not sure it ever SHOULD be.
I love you, Patwente.
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