I follow the woman wearing cute green scrubs into my doctor’s office, and sit in the spare chair. Doctor Rhett isn’t my general doctor. He specializes in oncology and treatment after diagnosis, so once I was considered in remission, I was moved out of his books and back into the schedule of my regular doctor. For me to have to see Doctor Rhett again would be bad news. So seeing Doctor Rhodes means my world is okay, and that all of the hard work we did years ago was worth it.
I sit for a moment and settle my bag in my lap as the nurse lets herself out of the room, but I barely have thirty seconds to myself before the door bursts open, and I’m faced with my Amazonian doctor. Deep, black hair tied in a knot at the base of her neck. Midnight black skin that looks so plump and perfect, it can’t be real. Smooth, chocolate eyes that seeeverything. And the kind of smile that people fall in love with.
Doctor Rhodes receives a million Valentine’s cards every February, I’m certain of it.
“Miss Rosa.” She stops in front of me and grins. “It’s so good to see you again.”
I set my bag on the floor and watch as she pulls her chair closer and drops down. “It’s good to see you, too. I always get so excited for these sessions.”
Chuckling, she takes a stethoscope from her desk and swings it around her neck. “I bet you do. How are you feeling? Anything you want to talk about?”
I try to shake my shoulders back and relax into the next hour. These appointments are standard, but terrifying. They bring back horrible memories of pain and loneliness, but when I’m cleared each time, they’re so relieving. You’d think I’d be used to coming here by now, so used to it that I don’t tell my brothers or bring someone along to be with me, but my heart races every single time. I will never truly be okay with these appointments.
“Um…” Hesitantly, I shake my head. “Nothing to talk about. I’m healthy. I didn’t even catch a cold over Christmas.”
“Anything feel different? Do you still check regularly?”
“Yes, ma’am, I check most nights. And no, nothing feels different.”
“Okay. If you’d like to jump onto the bed and undress from the waist up, we can get started.”
Frowning, I slowly begin to stand. “No scan today?”
“We’ll take a look soon, but first I’d like to have a feel.” She reaches across her desk and squirts hand sanitizer into her palm while my nerves whir into a frenzy.
I toe my bag beneath the seat and slowly peel up my top.
Doctor Rhodes fusses at her desk for a moment while I shakily make my way to the bed and sit on the edge. I bring my shirt over my head and place it beside my thigh, then, swallowing, I reach back and unclip my bra.
It’s white with pink polka dots. There’s no sexy lace. No sheer fabric. Not even a little bow on the front to give it a flair.
I pull it away, and try to ignore how it’s heavy on one side. And how, when it’s gone, I have only the one breast, and an ugly scar on my right where the other used to reside.
How can I possibly let Spencer undress me when this is what I have hidden beneath my clothes?
Doctor Rhodes is good at what she does, so despite the fact I’m sitting topless in a room with another person, she makes it so I almost don’t blush.
Almost.
It’s not the kind of blush that fills my cheeks when Spencer talks to me, but a different kind. The kind where my heart races and – despite having massaged my chest this morning, and not found anything – I hope and pray she doesn’t prove me wrong.
Rhodes rubs her hands together as though to warm them, and focuses on her files for a minute longer. Enough time to let me prepare for what’s coming, but not so long that I start to freak out.
A song from my youth plays in my head. “Unpretty” by TLC helps me close my eyes and pretend Rhodes’ hands on my chest are nothing to be scared of. The lyrics speak of beauty and being yourself. Of seeing the things others see when they look at you.
I look in the mirror every morning, and study the body I’ve been given. Narrow hips, tiny waist, red hair, freckles. My backside is almost flat, just as my chest was already flat before they took half of it away.
Everything wrong with my body could be fixed. If I had the money and felt the need to endure the pain, I could have my breasts redone. I could have something done for my backside, and with better boobs and butt, my trim waist would actually look good. I could have my hair cut and dyed any way I want it, and buy makeup to cover my freckles.
I could look completely different to what I see, but what would be the point? How can I tell Marcie that she’s beautiful just the way she is, that boys won’t care about her scars or her sickness, if I don’t walk the walk?
So I embrace who I am.
Well… mostly. I still haven’t shown Spencer my chest.
Finally, Doctor Rhodes stops in front of me and smiles. “You ready?
Instead of a verbal confirmation, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and lift my arms above my head.