The people at the Comprehensive Breast Center (not a name I would have chosen, but then . . . I'm not sure what other name could have been chosen) are starting to recognise my name. Pretty soon they're going to recognise my face, too.
I'm not sure how I feel about this.
Ever since I was probably in high school, I've said, "I don't want to be made a fuss over. I just want people to know who I am." This is partly why, I suspect, I got a job at Starbucks. And write a blog. But . . . the only way anyone at the Comprehensive Breast Center can get to know who anyone is, is for Anyone to get breast cancer.
I like that these seem to be a caring bunch of people who see their patients as people, too, instead of as problems or random assignations or something. I like that. I do. But . . . I'm still not overly delighted to be one of the patients, I think.
1 comment:
If you find this comment too off-color, I won't be offended if you don't publish it.
Your observation about the wierd name of the place brought me back to the first time I worked for a book store.
There was this book. And even when you get the syntax, the it's pretty wierd. But if you have a brain like mine and misread it, it's even wierder.
The book is by Dr. Susan Love. And the name of the book is the breast book. The way the cover is set up, it all reads like one thing:
Dr. Susan Love's breast book.
The thing is, the first time I read it, I missed the apostrophe 's'; I thought that she was simply Dr. Susan.
And so I thought the book was "Dr Susan loves breast book"
Which, I suppose, would be an entirely different type of book.
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