Boobless Mammal

I was in the in the middle of Aventura Mall in Miami when I got a phone call from Dr. Brenda Bonelli. “Are you far away from my office?” Her voice sounded high-pitched. “Shall we wait for the rain to calm down and then you can come over here?”

I was with my mother, walking around the hallways in circles, getting lost among the countless pieces of clothing. We promptly ran to the parking lot and headed to Dr. Brenda’s office. Now, it was pouring rain, as if the sky was yelling: what you are about to hear is going to be tormenting. It was passed 5:00pm, and Dr. Brenda had stayed longer than her regular office hours. The partial results from pathology had arrived. “Honey,” she said, as we arrived at her unusually empty office, “they found some atypical cells in your biopsy that need further evaluation.” By “they” she was referring to the faceless men in the pathology laboratories—the ones we never see, but do all the work behind the scenes. My mom started crying. When she calmed down, she reminded Brenda that our flight back to Peru was scheduled for the following day. “I suggest you change that flight ticket,” Dr. Brenda ordered.

I asked her if she knew about “mastitis granulomatous.”  My symptoms were very similar to those of a friend who had had mastitis granulomatous and the doctors gave her the wrong diagnosis, confusing the mastitis with cancer. I begged her to find out more about the syndrome—as if I knew better than the doctor. Brenda brought me a book, like those from the high school library. She opened the book right to the mastitis granulomatous section. Indeed, she had been studying. However, my cells—the atypical cells—required further study. I told Brenda that I was recently engaged, as if my relationship status depended on the diagnosis (which, at some point, it did). 

“Tomorrow, we will have more accurate results, and I will perform three additional biopsies, just to be 100% sure,” said Brenda, with her eyes wide open.

Brenda’s assistant, who had also stayed passed her office hours, escorted us to the car with an umbrella because the rain was still heavy. My mom drove like a teenager, lost in the streets of the East Dixie Highway, driving against traffic. We were lucky the driver in the car next to us noticed we were lost. The woman in the car next to us stopped to pull down her window, and she kindly told us: “Make a turn up here and drive the other way.” My mother accommodated the car and started driving safely, while my Aunt Tuti was on loud speaker. She had been following up with us and Dr. Brenda the whole time. My mom, wiping tears from her face said: “they found some cells that are not atypical in Dana’s biopsy.”

 “Ma, do you mean atypical cells or cells that are NOT typical.”

 “Please, Dana, I am nervous, this is how I talk when I am nervous, whether you like it or not”.

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The weather is so unpredictable. How can it change so dramatically from one minute to the next? Like life itself. To think that just a few hours ago, that same morning, I had been enjoying the broad sunlight and the clear Caribbean Sea at the beach. My mom and I—while lying in the sun—spent some pleasant, candid time together. We talked about love…and sex…with transparency. We have mother-daughter conversations very often, but this one felt more frank than usual. After a quick swim, I came back to the umbrella to rejoin her. It wasn’t long before my mom started interrogating:

 “Is Steven good in bed?” she asked. Both of our eyes were facing the horizon. 

“Very good. In fact, the best. He knows what women want, unlike others,” I confessed.

“How many references do you have?”

“More than I would like to have.” We laughed. “Let’s just say that I have been with as many guys as the number of ice cream flavors in the ice cream place,” I said, hiding under my sunglasses.

My mom always says sex isn’t the most important thing in a marriage, but it is important. Too bad it wasn’t the most important thing, because in that regard, I had no doubts about Steven. She also says money isn’t the most important thing but it is important. What is the most important thing? If I were born a lion instead of a human being, I would have no doubts about my partner. I would just follow my instinct without letting my mind betray me.  Even though we want to pretend our life isn’t ruled by society, truth is, we live under social structures. There are rules and there are ways to survive, which are very different than what we find in the animal kingdom.

A grey cloud started to approach us; it was about to rain. We left the beach and went to the mall. Again, to keep shopping or return whatever we bought out of boredom. Our attempt to get distracted at the mall fell apart with Dr. Brenda’s phone call.

* * *