Copyright 2003 Frank Downey. All rights reserved. Any use other than personal archiving requires the permission of the author. Do not repost.

This story contains adult material. If this is illegal where you reside or if you are underage where you reside, begone.

DIAGNOSIS

She flinched.

"You don’t like me touching you there," I said.

"It’s.....uncomfortable. Mentally."

"It’s habit," I grinned. "I’ve been touching you there for twenty five years."

"I know," she grinned back, weakly. Then her face fell. "Oh, John, what am I going to do if they have to take it?" she wailed. "God, what are you going to think of me?"

"What I’ve always thought of you. That you’re the love of my life, and damn sexy. It won’t make a difference. Besides which, you know what they told you. They caught it early. They’re not talking mastectomy, Cathy, they’re talking lumpectomy and chemo."

"I know, but I’m preparing for the worst."

"Losing your breast is not the worst."

"I know." She sniffled. "I know. It just seems like it. You just don’t know."

"I know better than you think. Don’t forget who found the lump," I reminded her. "That wasn’t pleasant, because I knew right away. Like I said, I’ve been on intimate terms with those breasts for many years. I knew what I found."

"True."

"I know it’s traumatic. And hopefully you won’t have to go through it. But if you do, we’ll deal with it."

"You’ll still want me?" she asked hesitantly.

"I’ll want you until the day I die," I said, grinning, "even when we’re old and doddering and I’m keeping Viagra in business all by my lonesome."

"Silly. Like you’ll ever need that, stud," she giggled. Thank goodness. "But, fine, then. Prove it." I did—lovingly, tenderly, and completely. And though I didn’t go out of my way to fondle her breasts, I certainly didn’t avoid them.

"I love you," she sighed when we were done.

"Love you, too. Cathy? We’ll get through this. I promise."

"I’m holding you to that."

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This story is dedicate to my mother. She’s one of the lucky ones—chemo and a lumpectomy, and, fifteen years later, she’s just fine. But she was only 46 when diagnosed and it was traumatic.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Please give generously. We need more outcomes like my mother.