So, apparently after breast reconstruction following a double mastectomy, you have to stay in a room gently heated to 76 degrees. This was information that I didn’t have when I arrived to my sister Heidi’s ICU room last night. I endured the climate change from the “I might need a sweater” hallway for about 2 minutes until I asked, “Isn’t it a bit hot in here?”. My sister’s nurse Hyacinth (a sweet lady from India, whom I suspect changed her name from something harder to pronounce) sighed deeply and turned to size me up. “Lady, it has to be hot for the boobs. Nobody’s happy about it.” she said staring at me. I looked at my sister, who was literally glowing (or perspiring, but whatever) and she nodded her head. Now, those who have worked with me or entered my shop know that I like it cold. Often, people say things like “wow, it’s freezing in here,” and I have often been subjected to my manager Courtney putting her icicle hands on me to prove the temperature is too low. Normally, I respect and react properly to people that I’ve unintentionally made uncomfortable around me; but I take ADHD meds and I’m always hot. So sorry, wear a jacket or keep busy to warm up.
But, boobs are important and I shuffled to a chair that I later named “The Mangler” and sat down. Hyacinth was now turning the doppler up on the leads to my sister’s boobs. A audible whooshing sound came over the speaker, and this seemed to please my sister who asked “Which one is that?”. Hyacinth said “that’s A”. My sister then asked which one was A again, and Hyacinth looked back to the monitor and said the left one. My sister, eyes closed, smiled the reassured smile of a pregnant woman hearing her child’s heartbeat. They then went through the same conversation with “B”. I suggested they come up with better names and was met with a disapproving look from Hyacinth and a one eyed evil look from my sister. Oh good, now everyone’s happy and hot.
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