It was only a few weeks after my surgery. I went to Dr. Belt's office for a checkup. It was just after my first chemotherapy (化学疗法) treatment. My scar was still very tender. My arm was numb underneath. This whole set of unique and weird feelings was like having a new roommate to share the two-bedroom apartment formerly known as my breasts—now lovingly known as "the breast and the chest."
As usual, I was taken to an examination room to have my blood drawn, again— a terrifying process for me, since I'm so frightened of needles. I lay down' on the examining table. Ramona entered the room. Her warm sparkling smile was familiar, and stood out in contrast to my fears. I'd first seen her in the office a few weeks earlier. She wasn't my nurse on that day, but I remember her because she was laughing. She laughed in deep, round and rich tones. I remember wondering what could be so funny behind that medical door. What could she possibly find to laugh about at a time like this? So I decided she wasn't serious enough about the whole thing and that I would try to find a nurse who was caring. But I was wrong.
This day was different. Ramona had taken my blood before. She knew about my fear of needles, and she kindly hid the needle under a magazine with a bright blue picture of a kitchen being remodeled. As we opened the blouse, the catheter (导管) on my breast was exposed and the fresh scar on my chest could be seen. She gently reached over and ran her hand across the scar, examining the smoothness of the healing skin and looking for any irregularities. I began to cry gently and quietly. She looked at me tenderly and said, "You haven't touched the scar yet, have you?" And I said, "No."
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So this wonderful, warm woman laid the palm of her golden brown hand on my pale chest and she gently held it there.
That night as I lay down to sleep, I gently placed my hand on my chest and I left it there until I fell asleep.
