I was reading over my recent post about the 'twinging pain' in my right breast and remembered a story from when I was in college - also involving breast pain.

I do love to talk about my breasts.

So anyway - I was about twenty, living by myself, and attending a bevy of art classes (drawing, painting, printmaking - the whole tamale). One day, shortly after spending a couple of hours in my printmaking class working on a wood block print, I started noticing this sharp pain in my right breast, shooting straight through my nipple. I felt it almost every time I moved and it was truly awful. It made me break out in a sweat.

Clearly, I had breast cancer. The kind that comes up on you all in one day with no warning and becomes excrutiating.

I called Planned Parenthood (I was indigent and used them for all my health care at the time) and made an appointment to go see them the next day. I went to Mom's house and languished on her couch for a while trying to be as still as possible.

I managed to worry Mom to the extent that she called Dad, which led to a very awkward phone conversation with my father during which he asked me what was wrong with my 'booby'. Honestly, I was just grateful he didn't use the term 'lung wart' as he had been prone to doing when I finally grew breasts. (I say 'finally' because I was fifteen and flat as a pancake, and then woke up one morning with a respectable set of C-cup breasts.)

After hours of worry and doom and intermittent piercing pain, as I was getting ready for bed, I finally bothered to take my shirt off and have a look at my breast. This had simply not occurred to me earlier in the day. Not only didn't I look at it, I didn't even touch the thing. I was avoiding all contact with it.

I took my shirt off and looked down, and there - sticking directly out of my nipple, through my bra, was a splinter of wood. It was protruding about a quarter inch outside my bra, so I grabbed it and carefully pulled it out. Altogether it was a good half inch long, and had no doubt been sticking straight out of my nipple since I'd been working on carving my wood block for printmaking class earlier in the day. Every time I moved, my shirt would move against my bra and jostle the splinter, causing the (literally) stabbing pain.

I didn't know whether to feel more relieved or embarassed.