Thursday, December 09, 2004

the last time I saw my right breast, it was stitched and taped up, the nipple flattened beneath a plastic surgical dressing.

the next time I saw it, it was a handful of stuffing wadded into a stitched cotton pocket.

the time after that, it wobbled independently like an old-fashioned jelly dessert sitting in the nurses' hand as she explained prosthetic pocketed underwear.

I still have my hair. the wigmaker is tricking up a new lot for when that goes too: a plain brown hairpiece, just like I have, and a racier short red number with ragged edges which will please my husband.

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