Bras

The Facebook Posts – Mel’s Cancer Diaries

So, my doctor gave me a bra. I went to see her so she could check my tissue expanders and drains. She announced that the bra was a gift. She even accentuated the word, gift as if it would be delivered in a Tiffany-blue box. Naturally, I was a little excited. A new bra is not cheap. I pictured the intimates section at Macy’s and imagined what she might hand to me. Once I saw the thin plastic sheath in which the bra was presented my fantasy of La Perla came crashing to the floor.

Lemme tell you about this bra. It was made of stretchy satin. It was tan, yet erred on the side of brown pantyhose. It had what seemed like a million hooks in the front. It met strict safety requirements as to avoid the drains that stick out of the skin under my arms. Lovely, yes?

She gave me this thing that had no bells or whistles. It made me look like a man wearing a bra for a Halloween costume. No. no. no. no. I do not want to wear it. Like, ever. I don’t even want to ever wear any kind of bra ever again.

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Pink

The Facebook Posts – Mel’s Cancer Diaries

I walked into work this morning and noticed pink ribbons on the front doors of the college’s Administration building. The ribbons were printed on white copy paper and cut out, taped to the glass.

Odd.

Continuing along the hall to my office I saw pink holiday ornaments with pink ribbons tied to office door handles. It was quieter than expected too. No one was settling into their morning with the usual chatter and that seemed especially strange because it was the office holiday party that day. I assumed there would be excitement before our break, yet it was so still.

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Grades

The Facebook Posts – Mel’s Cancer Diaries

I decided to earn my Master’s degree so I can advance in my career and in the fall semester of 2015 I registered for classes. My University decided that my credit for accounting and statistics were too out-of-date to transfer. With a heavy sigh, I registered for basic accounting. I work at a community college so I took the accounting class with one of our professors. Plus, I thought the added benefit of knowing the instructor would help me tackle my most hated classroom subject – mathematics.

I have made a career out of avoiding math. Hell, I could teach a class on how to grow up to be a middle-aged woman with a decent career and never have to deal with numbers. I sweat just thinking about fractions. I’m the person who trusts the cashier is counting my change back to me correctly. I never ask questions.

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