Rick went to get the car for our drive to Geneva where I will see the surgeon on Monday. We definitely wanted to be off the road by tonight as half of France will be going on vacation on using Friday night, Saturday and Sunday to reach their destination.Nightmare roads in a canicule with temperatures in the 30s and even reaching the 40s. That 90s and more in F.
I needed to give Lydia another set of keys for the flat. She works at the end of the street in the "crypt" a small medieval room in the 13th century church which is converted to a tourist office during the summer.
As I walked down the street I realised that this was probably the last time my right breast would ever be there. It is strange to think parts of your body are going to be separate from one's self.
And the vanity part of me did wonder about summer tops that now show a cleavage that I will no longer have.
There is comfort that I was so small breasted most of my life that cleavage was rare.
And I do know I can opt for reconstruction. In fact last time just with a little scar and dent I was encouraged because it is not considered cosmetic, but the idea of something artificial in my body bothers me more than being uneven. At least it does at this point.
By the time I reach the crypt, which was refreshingly cool, I was at peace with the notion of what will be will be.
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