Silicone Solution*

“So, how are you?” My plastic surgeon says.  Am facing him across the desk in his consulting room.  Mum sits on my left and the panther lies on the floor between us.

“Well, my mood is very low,” I say.  “Am aware that that’s not your problem and…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, giving me a sympathetic smile.  He’s such a nice person.  “How is your chest feeling?”

“OK I think,” I say.  “Except it’s very sore where the port is so…”

“Well in a few weeks we can change those expanders for implants which will remove that problem,” he says.  “And even out the shape and size differences between the two sides.”

“What sort of implants will they be?” I say, looking out of the window behind him.  It’s raining and all the trees are bright green in their new leaves.

“Teardrop shape silicone,” he says.  “So they’ll be softer and…”

“Not those ones that kill you?” Mum says, sounding shocked.  “Those industrial ones that…”

“Not PIP ones,” he says, laughing. “Couldn’t get those even if we wanted to.  They don’t sell them anymore.”

“Ask him about the liposuction,” the panther says.  Attempt to ignore this.

“So, when do you think you want the operation?” My plastic surgeon says.

“Maybe in September or October.  Know it seems unlikely,” I say, looking at the pouring rain running down the window, “but maybe we’ll get some summer and want to enjoy it and not spend it in hospital.”

“Is it a big operation?” Mum says.

“Just a couple of nights in hospital – a couple of drains,” he says.

It’s always more complicated than that with me, I think.  

“Why don’t we meet up in August and we’ll take it from there?” He says.

I’m not going to see him for ages, I think.  That’s sad.  But it’s good to have some more surgery to look forward to.

“Thank you,” Mum says.  
Am sitting under my furry blanket in the living room.  It is raining inside the house, of course, despite all Bogdan’s efforts.  The fluffy monster is inside too.  Here he is in a patch of forget-me-nots the  other day:

The attached photo is today’s Spin outfit.

Happy Wednesday everyone!
*1999.  By M. Diane Voght.  A Judge Willa Carson mystery novel, book 1.  “When a notorious plastic surgeon is found dead, the police soon discover that quite a few of Tampa’s elite had a motive for murder.”  

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