“You will need a mastectomy,” the barely middle-aged breast surgeon with strawberry blonde hair, Dr. G., is saying. She looks too charming and nice to perform such a violent action. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, her cheeks are round and joyful, her toenails are each painted a different color, and she wears strappy sandals that showcase her healthy legs. How incongruous for her to use the dreaded word: Mastectomy. Unfathomable. I am shriveling. Shrinking. She couldn't mean me. I didn't do anything wrong. Read full essay: Download My Mamma Mia
Author Bio: Evelyn Lampart is a licensed clinical social worker, as well as a writer and painter. Her latest endeavor was to join a group reading works of literature in Yiddish, her mother tongue. Email: Evelyn Lampart.
Image: Life's Mastectomy by Artist Sara Molano
A modified version of this post is being published in the International Journal of User Driven Healthcare (IJUDH).