Yesterday, my dad emailed that he had knee surgery scheduled for next week. He has been limping for at least five years now, and has explained that he won't get a new knee 'yet' because they only last 10 years. He's 75 years old. He's getting a bit hefty. My thinking -- never said out loud, of course -- is that if he doesn't get the new knee, he won't be around in 10 years. According to him, his ortho-doctor told him in June to try crutches for 8 weeks and see if the pain went away.... I think this is the same doc who told him several years ago that there was neuropathy and degeneration (of some sort) in the knee. I think that crutches, and previously, a cane, were the doc's method of letting my dad think he was in control of the knee situation, and letting my dad justify putting off surgery. He's afraid. Like me, he has been blessed with good health and few episodes of owie interventions.

As Hubby and I gossiped about this news, I discovered that Hubby thought I was putting off the boob-fix -- for fear. What a revelation for him, to find out that I was much more afraid of the Big C than of the surgery -- but, since he's never had his breasts bound, or sliced, or altered, he didn't know that these things have to be carefully scheduled around expectations of using one's arm, lifting, wearing a bra.... I got a lovely note this morning from him saying that he was glad I still had all of my important parts and that I'd live a little longer yet. Ah, sentiment. All dressed up to disguise "make me happy." Hush, girl! Such cynicism!

This could lead to a whole meditation on Breasts and our (men's & women's) fascination with them. But, here, it is important to meditate on our / my changing body. Breasts of any size change their shape as we age. Lumps appear and must be removed. Fear of surgery -- of not waking up -- keeps us from getting fixed by one of the greatest health care systems in the world (yes, I have insurance). Fear of the unknown keeps us from even asking the question: What is that lump? Why do I have such pain? As we age, do we accept more easily that there will be parts breaking down (a.k.a. changing) and get less assertive and aggressive about fixing them? If pain, and changing shapes, are part of the aging process -- how will I know what is a "normal" change, and what is a pre-cursor to trouble? If I have one regret about this fix-it episode, it's that the lump wasn't in the left breast where babies' breast-feeding (I was a D-cup for about 3 months!!! Twice!!!) have left spider veins. Just a little snip there....