TIT FOR TAT – 2

It was now a month since it was done. A month since she lost a most important part of herself. A month since she lost the part of her anatomy she valued most. It’s been a month, but Tiwa still felt like it was just yesterday.

“The drugs aren’t working.” Dr Adese Ehimhen had told her after they’d tried medication treatment for two weeks. “And chemotherapy is likely to be a draining trial which will end up not working. The cancer is already advanced and chemo treatments might succeed in shrinking it but it won’t destroy the growth. Surgery is inevitable.”

That was what she’d said. How she’d said it, with her kindly eyes on her and her soft, long-fingered right hand rubbing hers in sympathy. Tiwa had cried. She had cried and cried and wouldn’t stop crying until the day of the surgery and many days after.

She still cried—but not as often as before. The emotional and psychological pains were still poignant but the physical pain had dimmed marginally. Her arms still felt stiff and her armpits remained numb, but Dr Adese had assured her that the pain will go with time.

“Time will heal all your pains. It is the pains in our hearts that time can never heal. This is just on your body, with time it will heal.” She’d said.

But Tiwa felt the loss of her beautiful, well-moulded, ever-erect breast a deep gnawing pain in her heart. It had broken her heart to submit herself to the mastectomy surgery. It broke her heart every day to wake up and not feel the fleshy mounds on her chest. It destroyed her heart to look into the mirror and see that image with an ugly scar in the place where her lovely breasts used to be.

She could have a breast reconstruction. That too Dr Adese had told her. But it had been delayed because she still underwent some chemotherapy to completely destroy the cancer. Maybe in five-six months time, when chemo was done and the effects of the radiation gone.

Tiwa didn’t care much for a reconstruction. Of course she will have to have it—she couldn’t go through the rest of her life without breasts on her chest. That would be weird, abnormal. Ugly. She will have the reconstruction but the new breasts won’t feel the same.

They used to be her top assets. That was how she saw them— how she treated them. Like beautiful, valuable, indispensable assets. Men used to love them. Many gawked at them even when they were hidden under her clothes. And those who had the privilege of beholding them, nude and erect in all their glory, could not have enough of them.

Now they were gone. To be replaced later by a fake, bouncy pair.

Tiwa moaned as new grief struck and her eyes filled with fresh tears. She rolled to her side and moaned again when she felt that single, sharp pain. Not all of the physical pains were gone. She still felt stings and twinges in her chest area. They didn’t hurt so much anymore but she hated to feel them. Feeling them reminded her of her loss.

Her bedroom door squished open and Tiwa groaned. She knew even before the intruder spoke that it would be her mother. She was forever nagging her these days and never let her be.

“My God, Tiwa, so this room is still in this hideous state?” Her mother’s voice rang out with dismay. “You promised to clean it up yesterday. Dear Lord, it is even beginning to stink. Can’t you perceive the smell?”

Tiwa whirled around on the rumpled, un-made bed, winced at the pain that bit into her ribs and let out vicious cuss at both the pain and her mother’s rebuffs. “Bloody hell! Mum, let me be! Let me be for bloody Christ’s sake!”

“Don’t cuss with the Lord’s name!” Her mother sharply reproved.

“I will cuss with any name I please!” Tiwa howled. “And no, I can’t smell the room. I can’t smell anything. I lost my sense of smell along with my breasts… so deal with it!”

“No, you deal with it, young lady.” Her mother avoided a stack of used and soiled dishes as she marched towards her bedroom windows. “Your breasts are gone but you are still alive. So be thankful to God for that instead of lamenting and mourning.” She grabbed the drapes and yanked them to one side, then pushed open the glass windows.

“You are so unfeeling. So judgmental and insensitive!” Tears sputtered down her cheeks but Tiwa didn’t care. She wished her hands weren’t feeling so heavy so she could grab something and hurl it. “Do you know how it feels to lose your breasts? Do you know the trauma and torment of having no breasts at all and yet you are a woman?”

“I don’t know, but I know what it is to be alive instead of dead.” Her mother tossed back, then inhaled slowly and looked at her with pleading eyes. “Tiwa, I know this must be hard. Wait.” She said quickly when Tiwa opened her mouth to debunk her statement. “Wait. Listen to me, please. I’ve never hard to go through a major surgery where I lost a part of my body but I’ve been at the point of death once and I knew how much I valued being brought back to life.”

“This is not life I’m living, mum. How can this be life when as a woman I don’t have my breasts anymore?” Tiwa raised a hand and touched one of the scarred tissues. “Do you know how ugly this is, mum? How will a man ever look at me again?”

“You’re getting the reconstruction surgery, Tiwa. You will have breasts again.” Her mother hopped over the tissue papers that had not made it into her dustbin and came over to sit beside her on the bed. “Can’t you be grateful that the cancer was discovered early and we were able to fight and eliminate it before it did irreparable damage?”

“No, I’m not grateful for that!” Tiwa jerked off her soothing hand. “I think I prefer to be dead than having to live without my beautiful breasts.”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Her mother reproved. “Stop talking nonsense. What is special about a pair of breasts anyway? Why are you so vain, Tiwalade?”

“I am not vain!” Tiwa retorted. “And my breasts were special. Men hungered for them. They used to suckle them like they were rich, ripe oranges. They couldn’t get enough of them and always wanted more and more. They were the most beautiful part of my body.”

“Dear God, you are so vain and so stupid!” Her mother rose from the bed and glared down at her with disappointed eyes. “You treat yourself cheaply and allowed these men to treat you same way. You’re just twenty-three but you have known more men than I do at my age.”

“That is because I am more beautiful and definitely not a prude.” Tiwa taunted, refusing to allow her mother’s disappointment get through to her.

“No, it is because you are stupid and without any pride.” Her mother shook her head. “My God, where did I go wrong in your upbringing? I tried my best to teach you right from wrong. Your father and I did the best we could. Why are you so shallow and conceited?”

“Stop judging me, mum. Leave me alone.” Tiwa got up and dragged up the band-sleeves of the dress that fell loosely down her upper body. It didn’t fit anymore. Nothing fitted her anymore. Broken and annoyed afresh, she glared at her mother. “Just leave my room, please. I will clean it when I’m good and ready. I want to be left alone. Since you don’t understand me, leave me in peace then.”

“I wish you will stop looking at this as a loss but a gain. Tiwa, life is more important than a pair of breasts, no matter how much of an asset you might have considered them.” Her mother looked sad even as she turned to leave. “If you won’t clean up the room, let me send Imade to come and do the cleaning. This place is filthy and it stinks.”

“I don’t want Imade coming here to disturb me.” Tiwa rejected the idea of the house-help coming to prance about in her room all in the name of cleaning it up. The less ladies she saw with still standing and erect pair of breasts, the less pain she will feel. “Leave me alone, mum. I said I will clean the room when I’m good and ready.”

Her mother stared at her for a full minute and then shook her head and walked out of the room. When the door closed after her, Tiwa let out a loud sigh. She glanced about her. Indeed the room was filthy. She hadn’t swept it in over a week and the pile of trash was beginning to stink for real.

She didn’t care. She cared for nothing, not without her top assets to make her proud and boost her confidence.

*~*

SHE hadn’t cleaned the room but had ordered Imade to do so in her absence.

She’d woken up that morning with a desire to step out of the house and mingle with people. She had dressed up but she hadn’t found the courage to go through the door until it was evening and she felt the protection of the darkening night-time sky. Her mother had protested—as usual—when she’d told them that she was going out. Wasn’t it too late to go out she’d demanded. But she’d insisted and since no one else joined her mother’s protests, she’d left the house.

It wasn’t that late. Barely eight pm. Her mother was such a prude, a prude and a self-righteous prig. Tiwa clucked her tongue and lifted her glass of wine to take a slow, long sip. She’d chosen to come to the club. Not one she usually frequented in the past. She didn’t want people recognising her and yapping out their annoying, unsolicited sympathies.

Sympathies that did no good but hurt her further.

She had bought two pairs of mastectomy camisole bras and was wearing one underneath her top now. It felt odd. But at least, she didn’t feel so empty and shapeless with it on. Her chemo appointment next week, she will ask Dr Adese if she can have the reconstruction surgery sooner. She wanted to start feeling something on her chest again, not this constant emptiness.

“Hey, look who I find here.”

Tiwa jolted slightly and turned her head to the left. It was Mark—Mark something, the radiologist from the clinic. “Hi, Mark.” She sent him a smile. He had been quite friendly during her mammogram. “Longest time. Where have you been? You disappeared right after having a glimpse of my breasts. Is that how you work—look and run?”

He grinned as he slid into the stool beside her. “Not at all. I went on a six-week study leave. Just got back. Will be resuming work come Monday.” He angled his head and aimed a glance at her chest. “I see you’ve got ‘em pair in there treated and back to normal. Loveliest pair I ever saw, I must confess.”

Tiwa felt a sting of tears at the compliment. His words didn’t embarrass her and she didn’t find them rude. She only wished she still had her breasts so be deserving of the compliment. “They are far from back to normal. Dr Adese said I may have to wait six months. Even then I don’t know how normal they will be after the reconstruction.”

“Reconstruction?” Mark frowned, murmured his thanks to the barman as he served him his drink and turned again to her. “What are you talking about?”

“My breast reconstruction surgery of course.” Tiwa frowned too. “I’m surely not going to live without breasts because I had to take out my natural pair. God forbid!”

The frown on his dark face turned into puzzlement. “Take out…? You had your breasts taken out? Why the heck would you do that?”

For a second Tiwa gaped at him. Was he being dense? Or just purposely out to refresh her wound? “What the hell do you mean by why the heck would I do that? I had cancer, remember? Breast cancer. You did the mammogram. You discovered the cancerous growth.” She let out a hiss because she was beginning to feel irritated. Maybe she should have stayed at home instead of exposing herself to this ridicule.

“I did the mammogram but it wasn’t breast cancer I found.” Mark still looked puzzled. “It wasn’t even a cancerous tumour. What you had was Fibroadenomas. A benign non-cancer tumour. I recommended a biopsy for final diagnosis, so we could be certain. Ah… did you actually have your breasts removed because of that?”

The brightly-lit club hall began to whirl around her head. Tiwa wanted to scream, but wasn’t sure what she should scream out… or even how. Her chest was tightening up, freezing around her like she was suffocating.

“What?” She finally managed to gasp out. “A non-cancer tumour?” Her eyes filled. Her head started to pound, loud and hard. “She said… Dr Adese… she said it was cancer. Breast cancer and we… we did treatments and then… she recommended the surgery. Said the tumour was already far advanced and life-threatening. Oh my God!” Her hand went limp on her glass of wine and slipped down to her laps. “Oh my God!”

“Dr Adese told you it was breast cancer? Seriously?” Mark looked flabbergasted. “Why the hell would she do that? Did you have another mammogram? A biopsy?”

Tiwa shook her head. Some people were beginning to stare at them but she didn’t care. Her heart was palpitating and she felt like she was going to have a heart attack. The realisation that she had been duped—medically duped and needlessly operated-on filled her with horror.

“She lied to me. She lied to me and she took my breasts. Oh God! Oh God, why did she lie to me? Why? She’s been pumping me full of chemicals that I didn’t need? My God, why?” Tiwa slid down the high-stool and blindly reached for her purse. “I have to go. I have to find that demented woman. She has to tell me why!”

“Wait.” Mark grabbed hold of her hand.

But Tiwa jerked him off. “I’m suing all of you!” She howled out. “I am suing your hospital! I am suing Dr Adese Ehimhen! You bastards took my breasts! You destroyed my life!” She staggered forward as her tears gushed heavily now. “Oh God, what did I do to that demented evil woman? Why? Why me?”