To boob or not to boob? I’m fairly certain that William Shakespeare would be rolling in his grave after hearing his famous soliloquy used for an article about . However, considering the corsets women wore back then, I’d say odds are that he probably was a boob man. Either way, the question rang true for me.
And in the end, I chose not to boob. Actually, I chose not to keep either boob. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
Let’s start at the beginning: at the germ-filled Great Wolf Lodge in the middle of Kansas City in March 2020. A virus was spreading quickly through the country. My phone was buzzing with calls and messages from staff members at the elementary school where I worked about school closures and iPads.
And in the midst of those calls, one came through where the caller ID said, “Healthcare.” “Danielle, your mammogram showed something, and we’d like to have you come in for a biopsy.” It’s a call that, unfortunately, many women get.
Yet, I’ll never forget where I was when I got mine. That burning feeling of bile as it made its way up my throat. Or the look I gave my husband as we drove down the highway to our spring break vacation.
“It’s routine,” the nurse said. “Usually these things are benign.” So, my husband and I pushed it aside.
We tried to focus on going down waterslides and cheering on our two children as they rang the bell at the top of the climbing wall. We focused on the craziness of the world and the news that schools wou.
