Wearing o' the Pink

Mitchell Boyd, OL, #76

My mastectomy was just over a year ago and though I know that my body has been changed significantly, for the most part the surgery and its lingering aftereffects are no longer foremost on my mind.  Since it's not exactly a going concern for me, I am always awkwardly surprised and amused to find it is for those who know me.

For example, my colleague JY and I don't cross paths as often as I would like, but when we do, she always asks how I am feeling, while very carefully avoiding any downward glance at my chest.  I know what her intention is and I appreciate it but the so very pointed way she keeps her eyes fixed on my face actually makes me squirm more than if she just moved her eyes normally.  It doesn't help that she is very petite and is normally at my chest level anyway.

The flip side of that are the people who think they are being subtle when they steal quick downward glances.  Today I saw one of the ladies who subbed for me during my absence last year; she said hello to my face, stared at my chest for a second then said, "How ARE you?"  I wish I could have thrown my voice to make my chest respond...

I never kept my health a secret so many of the current seniors were aware of the situation even though, at the time, they were not actually in my class.  Some, however, were not.  One of the oblivious ones asked if I intended to give blood at an upcoming blood drive:

"I can't right now." 
"How come?"
"Because I had surgery within the past 12 months."
"What surgery?"  From the other seniors present, "Shut up, stupid!  You know which surgery; the one..." (accompanied by a wave of the hand in the general breast area)
"Ohhhh, THAT surgery..."

The juniors were sophomores at the time and since I was actually their teacher, they are the ones who were most affected by my procedure and subsequent 6-week absence.  Whether it's because they were all in the know from the very start or simply because they are just a different breed (when compared to the seniors!), their concern and their many ways of expressing it has always felt natural and easy.  JP would screech, "Boobies!" when she saw me and slap me a high five.  She was the first to hug me as soon as she knew that it was not painful to do so. DM would say, "How are the girls, Miss?"  They'd offer to carry things for me, pass things out, lift things.  Even after I assured them I could do these things for myself.

I don't have the juniors for class this year but I still feel the same warm concern in the little things they do; popping their heads in during recess or passing time to yell hello, bringing me flowers on my birthday, writing little cards and leaving them on my desk for me to find. Yesterday, I received one of the sweetest tributes I have ever had.  MB, an offensive lineman on our school's football team, showed me a brand-new pair of bright pink football cleats that he bought to wear for Breast Cancer Awareness month in October.  Then he asked me to sign them.

A 200+ pound lineman wearing hot pink cleats for me.  No other honor will ever replace this one.