As Brandy leans over me and puts a drop in my right eye, I wonder aloud if we will see a lot of rain from the coming hurricane. Even as I ask, I'm somewhat preoccupied with her tattoo and the hurricane and the excitement about the new water additive I have found.
She doesn't think so.
"A non-event. Guarantee it."
I hear Dr. Benjamin drop the file folder on the counter as Brandy takes aim at my left eye.
Of course, there's no real reason to believe her. She's an ophthalmologist's assistant and I'm sure hasn't seen the updated forecast.
Besides, she looks about fourteen.
After shaking Dr. Benjamin's hand and exchanging the usual pleasantries, he begins to familiarize himself with my file as I blink to adjust to the drops.
Funny how easy it is to dismiss opinions from young professionals. I smile to think how experienced Laura's surgeon must be, wondering how many times she's performed the procedure that's now two short weeks away. I doubt it's less than several hundred.
Laura and I have increased our own knowledge of breast cancer and the associated procedures and contingencies exponentially in the past few weeks. And miraculously, what I used to think must surely be one of the most awful impacts a woman might have to endure in a lifetime -- the loss of a breast -- is now our accepted vision of the future state and can be seen as an adjustment rather than a disaster.
Life is change. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.
No comments:
Post a Comment