Two other women, also breast cancer survivors, said their husbands left them after they were diagnosed. Both had to have mastectomies (in case anyone doesn’t know, this is the surgical operation to remove one or both breasts).
The first woman said her husband told her that he would rather see her dead than see her lose her breasts. The second woman had her operation and waited all day to be picked up by her husband, who never arrived. By nightfall, one of the nurses offered to give her a ride, and she came home to find the house empty.
Obviously, these are extreme cases of a man’s reaction to his wife’s breast cancer, but this is what I see when I see the “I ♥ Boobies” bracelets. I see love of the body parts, not the person being treated—not the patient, not the victim, not the survivor.
-- A Mental Illness Happy Hour listener whose list of fears matches mine four for four. Glad I’m not the only one.
When I was a kid I thought your 20s were supposed to be fun, not filled with perpetual anxiety about financial stability and constantly feeling like an unaccomplished piece of shit.
That’s because it was fun for baby boomers and they basically gave us this impression it would always be like that, but then they ruined the economy.