After I got out of my car and made the walk from the car, through the garage, and up to the door of my house, I looked down and discovered I only had one breast! My large prosthesis which matches my remaining breast was gone! I had a Mastectomy due to Breast Cancer just over a year ago. Utter panic set in. What the heck happened to it? I retraced my steps from car to house, and it was nowhere to be found.
Immediately, I began to review my day thus far. Vividly, I remembered inserting the prosthesis into my bra while getting dressed. In the late morning I had a medical appointment at my local hospital which was a “strip to the waist and put on this hospital gown” kind of appointment. Oh no, I then remembered while getting redressed that I just stuck the prosthesis into the bra without slipping it back into the prosthesis pocket. I did so because I was worried the door of the examining room would be opened at any given moment onto a busy hospital corridor and there I would be, half naked, inserting boob into bra.
While driving home from the hospital, I recalled that I needed an oil change and my tires were low. Since it is the middle of winter and snowing pretty heavily, I stopped at one of those pay double but stay-in-your-car oil change places. The attractive young male manager motioned me to drive my car on top of two narrow metal strips so your car hangs over a large pit so the oil change guy can stand underneath and change your oil. Whew, driving onto those narrow tire strips always makes me a little nervous. After I accomplished that, I could not find the hood release since I drive a relatively new car, and I don’t pay attention to those kind of things. I open the car door and am half hanging out of the car reaching down, grasping and grappling any lever that is under the dashboard while trying to find the one that magically opens the hood. Mr. Hunka Lube Job sees my struggles since I am practically standing on my head and asks if I need help. He reaches into the dark abyss and PRESTO, the first knob he pulled did the trick with his charming, I should have been a movie star, smile.
Now the panic really begins to mount. OHMYGOSH, my fake boob must have fallen out at the oil change place while I was hanging out and doing acrobatics over the pit! Oh no, horrors, how do I possibly call the place and ask Mr. Hunka Lube Job if a big silicone boob was found in the bottom of the oil change pit? Then all kinds of things start running through my head like the fact that fake boob cost $400.00 and that’s too much money to waste and not call. And what if they did have it? How do I walk into that place and retrieve my errant boob in front of the all-male employee review? It was all too awful to face. Then I started to laugh thinking of that prospect until tears were streaming down my face.
Just then another light bulb went off in my head. Before I drove into my gargage, I noticed papers were strewn over my yard because of the windstorm the previous day which was also garbage pick-up day. I had gotten out of the car and chased the flying paper all over the front and back of my house as snowflakes began to fall heavier.
I flew out of the garage and began charging all over the half snow-covered lawn looking for Silicone Boob. I was running like a crazy woman desperate to find my boob before my neighbor, Jerry, came home from work. He would offer to help me find whatever I was looking for because he is a nice guy. I had to hurry, looking down at my watch.
On the second run around my yard, I spotted Silicone Boob out near the mailbox which faces the street. There it was lying face down in the grass peaking out under the newly-fallen snow. My delight was deep and real. I tenderly picked it up like it was a child who had been lost and now found. I began talking to IT and promised I would never again just shove it in my bra without securing it properly and treating it with the respect it deserves.
How was your morning?