I retired from a company who sponsored the “Breast Mobile”. Every year, it would roll up to our parking lot for employees to get their scheduled private breast exams. It was this exam mode that discovered my breast tumor. Four days later, I woke up in the surgical recovery area, flat-chested and groggy. Secretfully, I smiled at the prospect of not carrying around 10 extra pounds, not having nipples to accidentally slam in my desk drawer, and not having to find and buy expensive support bras. This breast cancer thing isn’t so bad after all! I was okay. Then came the real recovery; the pain, the scar, the drains. It seemed as though I had just experienced a round of torture in a dark basement in the Renaissance era...to be continued…