Moira’s Cancer According To Seinfeld

Just another weblog

March 31, 2009: MORTY: “There’s already an ambulance here for Mrs Glickman.There’s room for one more.”

I had my first visit to the plastic surgeon on March 25. He is going to see how things are healing, maybe give me my first expansion. Oh, and get a drain out.

So he looks at my drain tubes and the bulbs and says, “you have a leak”. I’m like, WHAT? “Your expander. It’s leaking. You didn’t notice that your drain is dyed blue?” I said I thought it was just different from the other side. Like a different make. He said, “We’re going to have to replace it. Like now.” And so that meant yet another surgery. They scheduled me for March 31. It would be outpatient. I’d go in first thing in the morning and be released a few hours later. I was starting to freak out. I called Fifi and actually started crying—not for myself, but because my mom is going to be turning 82 on March 31, and this is news that an 82-year-old woman just should not hear. She has started to stress a little bit about me and when she does that, her health goes to hell.

Fifi had a simple answer: “let’s not tell her.” We agreed. Fifi would take me early that morning and then she’d go over to mom’s house to take her to a birthday lunch. Paul would take me home. Mom would never know about the third surgery.

And she still doesn’t. Don’t tell her.


April 17, 2009 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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