Mastectomy. I so dislike that word.
I don’t know why the surgical removal of a woman’s breast can’t fall into line with other logically-named procedures. Is your appendix troubling you? Have an appendectomy. Thyroid, tonsils…even lumps in the breast are married up with “ectomy” to describe the surgical parting of company with their host.
Mastectomy. The removal of a mast?
A typical mast is indeed attached to something from which it can be removed. It’s called a “boat.” When the boat is laid horizontal, the mast sticks up at rigid right angles, stiff and tall. Perky, even.
Where is the similarity to my “mast”? I’m just not seein’ it. When I’m horizontal, the girls stretch out for a nap, as well.
A few years ago, when Jerry and I were mountain biking, we came across two of Jerry’s buddies from work. They were both wearing big smiles. On a remote part of the trail, they’d passed a couple of women mountain bikers who were riding topless.
Jerry turned to me. “Hey, honey,” he joked, “How about it?”
“No, thanks,” I said, “I might run over one of them. Or get it caught in the chainring.”
And thus, we are abandoning the mastectomy word. The procedure that will take place on Wednesday is now a “boobieloptomy.”
“Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.” Song of Solomon 7:3