i was warned/informed by my surgeon that following my surgery i would be encouraged to view/acknowledge my mastectomy. so, i was still in a "recovery" room with my husband when a smiling, good spirited woman came in and announced with a smile that "we" take a look at the site. i was in fine spirits, a morphine drip slithered under my skin and so far I had been pretty "matter of fact" about this event. i was now emotionally neutral after the initial shock of diagnosis. pure, simple survival mode. the hard part was over, surgery. i was now on a high- not only morhine, but a psychological high. i was relieved that I had covered this quite unfamiliar, unbelievable terraine so far, and I was still relatively, elasticly sane.no turning back. no turning it off. no walking out or away.
my robe was opened to unveil the delicate nylon surgical bra-contraption. two things etch my rather peaceful memory of this moment: the expected soft screaming of the velcro and the beautiful whiteness of my skin against the virgin white bandage strips- gracefully bridging the fresh sliver within the smooth, flat, unexplored landscape.
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