Okay, okay, it’s Breast Cancer Awareness month and I often remember my friend Linda Palmieri, who lost her valiant fight against the disease nine years ago. I like to think that wherever she is now, she’s comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable with her irrepressible sharp wit. A woman who never thought that “irony” was something you used to press shirts. (HT to Jeffrey from whom I stole that line.)
But lest this thing get too sepulchral or saccharine, let’s turn in our hymnals to yesterday’s post by Dooce aka Heather Armstrong, who’s turned her blog masthead pink for the month in honor. Recounting her aunt’s recent bout with the disease, she writes:
Lola had reconstructive surgery on both breasts last week while we were out of town, and by all accounts she’s recovering well, although my mom says she’s a tad grumpy — how my mother differentiated that from the mood Lola has been in for the last 40 years I HAVE NO IDEA. Seems she doesn’t like the look of the new ones because one of them is looking in the wrong direction in an exact imitation of a lazy eye, but that should correct itself once the swelling from the surgery has subsided. Whose boobs haven’t gone wandering once or twice in their lives? You can’t sit there and tell me that you haven’t ever had a bad day when one of them was staring blankly at the floor while the other one was frantically searching the menu for French fries. OR WAS THAT JUST ME?
Blurbodoocery, Inc., will be making a donation to The Breast Cancer Research Foundation this month with the hope that ongoing research will make a true difference in the lives of millions of women. This also gives me a chance to talk about boobs in nauseating detail like I haven’t since I stopped breastfeeding Leta and lost the ability to shoot milk at the dog’s head from four feet away.
And Heather: it’s just you.