Tonight I was talking to my sister who recently took a bad tumble with her bike. She was telling me that the bruising took some days to reach the surface, as a really bad bruise will.
I reminded her of the time I fell down and skinned my knee on my way to my first day of a new job ("Hi, I'm the new girl, and I'm bleeding, so I have to go now...")
and the time I slipped while dancing, landed on a box and got a hematoma in my butt, necessitating a donut pillow. Classy.
I said, "Did you know that sometimes when you bruise yourself that badly, you get a little knot of scar tissue deep inside you?"
"Yes," she said, and reminded me that that's sometimes a beginning problem in breast cancer.
It reminded me of a long ago time in which my mom, Ali and I were walking along Water Street downtown. It was pouring rain, and we were making for high ground, heading up the hill to Front Street. My mom turned and marveled at how fast the water was rising and I turned to look---
and ran full-tilt-boogie into a parking meter. With my boob.
Oh, god, the pain. It was brilliant, shining pain.
And my mom said, "You'll want to remember that later, if you get breast cancer."