It's hard not to fall in love with a man who draws on your body in black Sharpie pen as if you are a priceless canvas and who then uses his scalpel and thread to craft you a new breast from the cancerous wreckage of your original one. Add in the fact that the man looked like Matthew McConaughey, walked with a Harrison Ford swagger, and spoke with the authority of a general on a mission to save the Earth from alien invasion, and you can see how natural it was for Dr. Black to become the hero of my recovery. I fell hard—but I'm a happily married woman and it wasn't real love. It was fantasy love, a schoolgirl crush, something I would never have declared out loud, or acted upon, or even, probably admitted. But still. It was love.
Read the rest at AOL/Huffington Post's Healthy Living.
By the way, Gina Misiroglu of Red Room put me in touch with the Huffington Post people, which is one of the great ways she's bringing traffic to Red Room and getting attention for Red Room's authors.