4 February 2003
When I answered the phone, I was told I had to go in for a second mammogram because there was an image anomaly, an architectural distortion, a blip on the radar screen of my life when I thought I was under full sail.

It was then that my right breast detached itself and floated along side me, acting like my best friend Barbara Balloon for the next ten days.

No one noticed. They thought I was just bitchier than usual. Bitchiness was the national anthem of the country of Me.

When the third set of x-rays proved it was not anything more than folded tissue, my right breast re-attached itself. My left breast stopped aching with loneliness.

It was a lot easier then to get through doors.