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26 the minnesota review Barbara Hoffman The Examination Sweating fear I wait in the blue plaid examining room. Each strip of wallpaper meets perfectly at the seam. Small glass jars sparkle, filled with swabs. Chrome on the cabinets Gleams. The surgeon's long fingers circle my breast stop at the lump. He steps back folds his arms. His eyes flicker away from mine. Tight White Silence I Sterile shaved from neck to waist I wait in solitude for the high white trolley to take me to the cutting room. Hoffman 27 With slow eyes I watch green figures assemble around me. The anesthetist caresses my cheek puts the black cone over my face. I wake to darkness quiet rustling I am dressed in tight white. The nurse watches from the shadows but does not speak tome. II My husband framed by sunlight hides behind the Daily News. I wait for him to speak to reassure me. I wait. He places his hand on mine. "They removed your breast." Under this tight white bandage there is nothing. On The Edge I sit on the edge of the hospital bed a cotton putt stuck in the right side of my bra waiting to go home. 28 the minnesota review You walk in with long strides look me in the eye "I think we got it all. Good luck!" Shake my hand. Walk out. Stride in again "I want you to have radiation. I like to give my patients every chance of recovery." Doctor God I will do whatever you say. The Cobalt Machine Weighed and measured, loosely wrapped in a short white paper gown I walk into the room where the cobalt machine dwarfs me. I lie on the high, narrow white-sheeted table hands at my side. The technician wheels the cage over my chest places grey-black hunks of lead in a precise pattern that shields innocent cells from guilty. Silence slams me mute in the lead-lined room with walls three feet thick to armor outsiders against my medicine. Hoffman 29 My body shuts down to keep the fear away pulse rate rapid breathing shallow. At last, the nose cone touches my chest. Quiet. The button is pushed. Hum. God, I'm being cured. One-Sided Breast Cancer: Power vs. Prosthesis Essay by Audre Lord She said if I had courage I would be half-flat half-round I would honor the wound against symmetry I wouldn't hide the flat scar under a silicone breast I might as well open my naked legs for all to see the pink and brown folds that hood my secret self. 30 the minnesota review Reconstruction The plastic surgeon avoids my eyes looks me straight in the breast says, "Tsosis" and with one word he changes the image of my remaining breast from soft, swelling creamy-skinned touchable to an ugly droop with the old nipple straight out instead of pointing up like a teenager's then he says, "After we flip the skin from your back to your chest and insert the new breast we can lift up the other breast and eliminate the tsosis" In my mind I see one new silicone breast and an uplifted old one three more operations cut flip cut insert cut lift something quiet inside me says, No leave the droop leave the flat plane where the other breast used to be Hoffman 31 these scars celebration of my life Skeletons We wait in the summer-cold room for the iodine to irradiate our bones I'm subject #2301 for this free study on bone pain in former breast cancer patients you, subject #2302 cancer six years ago you'd been feeling good but, lately, lately you've dropped some weight and your jawbone hurts Dr. Research leads us down barren halls to the bone-scan room I stand on the metal half-moon my back against the giant circle think of the old silent movies with the woman strapped to a wheel spinning until the hero rushes in "Don't move," he says as the geiger counter clicks my skeleton in neon yellow on his computer screen he points to my glowing frame his...

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