Brave Hearts

Lately I have been back to the Breast Surgeons rooms. Two surgeons operate from this office. A beautiful place on the top floor with an outlook that stretches over lovely gardens, an impressive fountain, all the way out to the ocean. The waiting room is packed. Every seat taken. Mostly women, with the occasional man, looking incredibly uncomfortable, with nothing but women's magazines to distract him from why he is there.

I look around at all the faces. Which ones are here for the first time? I'm now an old hand so I can tell. The newbies are ones who cannot make eye contact with you. They stare at the floor, or at their phones, some turn pages of the glossy mags that feature beautiful two breasted women. However they don't see the pages, their phones or the floor. They can't hear the mumbles of their support team, those who have offered to be there, to hold their hand, to drive them home...after. They clutch at their X Rays, Mammograms and MRI's with every imaginable scenario going through their minds. Waiting for their name to be called.

Another women looks straight at me. We know. We can look into each others hearts. Silently we say "Yes. We are here. With hair, without hair. With wound drains cleverly disguised in pretty purpose made bags (I made my own out of an old pair of floral beach shorts!), Half breasted, single breasted, breast-less, but here." Warrior Women.
I want to reach out. To stand in the middle of that waiting room, and yell a war cry. "We are brave and we are beautiful. We fight like girls!" Instead I sit silently and send love to each and every one. I smile and ooze as much positivity as I can muster. Be brave, my fellow Brave Hearts, all is not lost.