found through a surgeon friend. Brock was always very resourceful.
“I made an appointment for you,” he said bluntly, one afternoon at work, and she stared up at him in amazement.
“That's a pushy thing to do.” She didn't want to go, and she argued with him about it for half an hour. “I'm not going.”
“Yes you are, I'm taking you. Just talk to the guy. It can't hurt you.”
She was still fuming about it when the day of the appointment came, but in the end, she went with him, and she was surprised how different this doctor was from her other surgeon. Where the other one was cold and methodical and dealing with hard facts and undeniable dangers, this one was dealing with improving things, and making people feel better about themselves. He was round and short, and gentle, and he had a good sense of humor. He had her laughing after a few minutes, and gently worked the conversation around to the procedure that had brought them to see him. He examined Alex's breast, or where it had been, and looked at the other one too, and told her he thought they could do a good job for her. They could either put an implant in or do a tissue expansion, which would require two months of weekly injections of saline solution to obtain the desired form. If anything, Alex preferred the immediacy of the implant. But in any case, she wasn't convinced yet. He explained that the surgery would be costly, of course, and not without pain, but they could take care of most of that for her, and at her age, he told her he thought it was well worth it.
“You don't want to look like that for the rest of your life, Mrs. Parker. We can give you a beautiful breast.” He had suggested nipple sharing and a tattoo to complete the picture. And in spite of everything he said to encourage her, Alex still thought it sounded awful.
But after they made love that night, she asked Brock if it mattered to him if she didn't do it.
“Of course not,” he said honestly. “I just thought you should. For you. But it's up to you. I'd love you with no boobs. God forbid.” Once was enough for a lifetime.
But without saying anything to him, she thought about it for two weeks, and at the end of July, she surprised him one morning in East Hampton.
“I'm doing it,” she said, sitting down at the table with him after finishing the dishes. He was deep in the Sunday paper.
“Doing what?” he asked, looking up at her, confused, but always interested in what she had to tell him. “Are we doing something today?”
“Not today. I'm going to call on Monday.”
“Call who?” He felt as though he had already missed an important part of the conversation.
“Greenspan.”
“Who's that?” His mind was blank. He was half asleep. Maybe a new client.
“The doctor you took me to. The plastic surgeon.” She looked very determined, and kind of nervous.
“You are?” He beamed, he was happy for her. He thought she'd be pleased afterwards. “Good for you!” He kissed her, and on Monday, true to her word, she called him and told him she had decided on the implant. She was terrified, about the surgery, and more pain, but once she decided to go ahead with it, she was determined to do it. He had had a cancellation at the end of the week, and he told her to expect to spend four days in the hospital, but after that she could go back to work. It would be painful for a while, more painful than her previous surgery, he confessed, but nothing like the discomfort she had experienced with chemo.
She took Thursday off that week, and Carmen agreed to stay in East Hampton with Annabelle. Alex told Annabelle that she had to go away on business. She didn't want to worry her with telling her about the hospital. The only one she told was Carmen, who was concerned at first, but then relieved when Alex told her why she was going. She thought it was a good idea too, and so did Liz. Everyone was excited about it, except Alex, who was terrified, and had second thoughts at the last minute.
On Wednesday night, she lay awake all night, next to Brock, wishing she hadn't said she would do it.
Brock took her to Lenox Hill at seven a.m. the next day, and a nurse and an