I just knew that my surgical tape was starting to slide. And if I didn't get it checked today it would be down around my ankles by Sunday afternoon. Inevitably leading to an emergency call disturbing my saint-like surgeon on Sunday night while he was trying to get some much deserved rest.
Dr D's assistant sweetly squeezed me in between his other patients at the Surgery Center for a quick preventative re-taping.
Now by this point, Dr D has seen more of my breasts that DH so when he hands me a gown and leaves so I can change I have to wonder why. He returns with gauze, tape, and scissors in hand, settles down in front of me, looks hard, takes his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose, returns them to his face and looks again. Without further hesitation he breaks into a huge grin, turns to DH chuckling, "ok, where's the camera? This must be a candid camera moment right? Because this tape and these breasts are perfect".
DH latches onto this unexpected but hugely welcome opportunity to commiserate with another male about my obsessive brain's innermost failings. A brief bromance blossoms over my bare breasts.
Trying for diversion I quietly ask if I am cleared for longer drives to and from my office, to which Dr D asks of DH, "is she ever ok to drive long distances???".
I take my neurotic boobs home and quietly obsession over the half millimeter movement of the only thing holding them together.
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