I will not go. This is my first thought. I want to be in my kitchen perusing the Profiterole recipe, composing a marinade for the Shark.
Do not go to the Breast Clinic in High Tops and Shorts. It looks too brazen - too free.
The woman ahead of me wears a wig-it is ill-fitting-it tilts to the side and yet she smiles at me and I suddenly realise I know her from the green grocers and once, I recall that she told me that I was too old to be thinking about birthdays.
That makes me sad because she seems too complacent now .
Doors in breast clinics glide easily. They suck you in.
Air conditioned radiology room. Nurse in Crocs. Cold as hell.
Clamp. Zoom on in. Rips and tears. Horrible unbearable pressure. I hold my breath. No tenderness. Nothing.
Nurse's face reminds me of steel too.
Nice grey window blinds though - must have cost a fortune.
Where is the woman with the crooked wig? The woman who sold me oranges and asparagus. Where is she?
I wonder what the significance is. There must be none and yet when I get home I think about her as I set about to make the Profiteroles and follow the plan and I am all in control just like the gliding, sliding doors. And there's the the nurse in her Crocs and she's Mrs. Nice all of a sudden and that makes me nervous and she tells me I won't know the result for two weeks and I say fine, two weeks, I can bake and dig my garden and hug my kids and walk the dogs and take coffee to H in bed and god knows what else, live I suppose and I want to say what about putting in some good old fashioned doors in your clinic because doors are great, you get to turn a handle, preferably made of marble or wood and sometimes the door hinge creaks and that can be nice, a sweet reassuring sound and then, once you pass through the door you get to close it and that can be the nicest feeling of all and can you tell me, (i wanted to ask), if the woman from the green grocer's is okay, she looked so pale, like, I don't know, like, the palest potatoes in December, ones that forgot what summer meant, felt like, the ones that died before they had a chance.