Part One Hundred And Thirty Nine
On the Wednesday morning, George overslept, and was therefore still hurrying to get ready when Karen arrived. This was George's day for going back to the hospital to have her stitches out, and to be fitted with a false breast-shaped insert to put in her bra. The thought of this positively disgusted her, but she knew that it had to be done. Both John and Jo were unavoidably needed in court, so George had asked Karen to go with her. George didn't like to admit just how terrified she was of today, because she knew that some time before she went to bed tonight, she must finally look at what she had left. If she didn't do it today, she thought that she probably never would. She also had the sneaking suspicion that Karen would try to persuade her to do this, and George knew that if Karen was prepared to be there to absorb some of the shock, she really ought to take advantage of it.
"We've got plenty of time," Karen said as she moved into the hall. "So calm down." George had obviously just got out of the bath or shower, as she was wearing nothing but a towel. "I can't get this bloody dressing back in place no matter what I do with it," George said disgustedly as she went back up the stairs. "Do you want me to do it for you?" Karen asked, looking up at her. "Would you?" George replied in slight relief, thinking that if she could cope with Jo seeing how she looked, Karen was a far easier prospect. When they were in her bedroom, George hung the towel over the radiator and turned to face Karen, who immediately picked up the clean dressing from where it lay on the bed, and fixed it into place with the minimum of fuss. "That'll look fine once the stitches have gone," Karen observed as George began putting her clothes on. "I'll take your word for it," George said as she stood in front of the mirror brushing her hair. "You haven't looked at it yet, have you," Karen said, realising that George would put this off as long as possible. "Good god, no," George said with a slight shudder. "I might not have much desire for anyone else to see my body the way it is, but I certainly have no desire to see it myself." "The longer you put it off, the harder it will be," Karen told her. "Yes, yes, I know," George said a little impatiently. "And I am quite well aware that you will do your best to persuade me to do that today." "Admittedly, it was a thought," Karen said carefully. "But I wouldn't try to make you do something that I didn't think you weren't ready for."
When they arrived at the hospital, Ric led the way into one of the consulting rooms. "Before I remove the stitches," He said, as George took a seat in front of the desk. "How are you feeling?" "Tired," George admitted disgustedly. "All I seem able to do is sleep." "That's probably the best thing you can do at the moment," Ric told her. "You've had major surgery, so rest really is the best cure. What about the pain?" "Pretty much non-existent," She said thankfully. "It was very sore for the first couple of days, but now it's only if I do something to pull at the stitches." "Good," Ric said as he rose from the desk. "Then the next thing to do is to get rid of them." As George lay on the couch and Ric deftly removed the stitches from her scar, Karen watched his fingers at work. This brought back so many memories for her, from the numerous times she'd seen him operate all those years before. "What're you thinking?" George asked, looking over at Karen to see a very wistful expression on her face. "Just remembering all the times I've seen those hands in action," She replied with a smile. "In theatre or out of it?" George asked with a wry little smirk. "Oh, both," Karen replied without a flicker, making Ric feel ever so slightly uncomfortable. "You're making him blush," George teased. "I, never blush," Ric said firmly, tugging free the last of the stitches as Karen laughed. "What we're going to do now," Ric intervened, neatly changing the direction of the conversation. "Is to fit you with an insert for your bra, so that you will at least look relatively normal from the outside. Seeing as Tricia has far more experience with these things than any of us do, I'm going to get her to help you." Putting his head out of the door, Ric called for Tricia who had obviously been waiting for his summons. When she appeared, Ric beckoned to Karen. "Whilst George is otherwise engaged, can I borrow you for a moment?"
When Ric and Karen had gone, Tricia gave George a smile. "So, you've got this far then?" "So it would seem," George replied, some of her former bravado departing in the face of what Tricia had in her hand. "Did you bring a bra with you?" Tricia asked, and George retrieved it from her handbag. "If you put it on as normal," Tricia explained. "I'll show you how this fits inside it." What she held up was something made of a soft, sponge-like texture, in an approximate size and shape of one of George's breasts. "I don't know what fills me with more revulsion," George said as she turned from Tricia to slip into her bra. "That, thing, or the thought of what my scar probably looks like." "You'll get used to it," Tricia promised her, though knowing that it was probably going to be an uphill struggle as it had been for her. "Will I?" George asked her, turning to face her. "Because right now I really don't believe you." "You will get used to it," Tricia said quietly. "Because at the moment, you really don't have any choice. You haven't looked at yourself in a mirror yet, have you?" "No, and I get the feeling that this is what everyone wants me to do, yet it's the one thing I want to avoid at all costs." "You should do it," Tricia told her. "Because it honestly doesn't look half as bad as you think it does." "I will," George said to placate her. "Just not here." "Do it only when you're somewhere and with someone that you feel comfortable with. Now, try to fit this in your bra, where your left breast used to be. You'll probably feel a bit lopsided at first, but that'll go with time." The foreign object felt alien against George's skin, and she couldn't imagine how she would ever get used to feeling it there instead of her own living flesh. After finding the most comfortable position for it so that it didn't rub too much against her scar, she fastened her blouse over her chest and asked, "How does it look?" "Fine," Tricia assured her. "You really wouldn't know to look at you, well, unless you actually did know." "So I'll still be able to seduce all the judges onto my way of thinking in court, you mean?" "I don't see why not," Tricia said with a smile.
As Ric and Karen waited for George to emerge, Ric said, "I need to ask you to do something for me." "Go on," Karen invited, again getting the feeling that they'd been here so many times before, his wanting help with a patient and she giving it without a second thought. "George is obviously trying to put a brave face on things," he began. "But I'm not sure how long that's going to last." "Especially when you take into account that she hasn't yet seen what you left her with," Karen filled in. "I need you to persuade her to do that as soon as possible," he said seriously. "I've done my best to warn her, but it's still going to be an enormous shock to see herself looking so different. Please, would you try to be there when she does take that leap?" "Of course," Karen replied, her professional mask only half-slipping back into place. "Ric, I'm going to be with her, every step of the way, if she'll let me." "You still love her, don't you," He said, seeing the utter determination in Karen's eyes to get George through whatever battles she had to surmount. "Yes, and far too much for my own good," Karen acknowledged with a rueful smile. Then, seeming to collect herself, she said, "Would you consider having dinner with me this weekend? I think it's about time we did some catching up." "Yes," he said, a delighted smile crossing his face. "Though I suspect you have far more to tell me than I have to tell you." "I wouldn't be too eager to hear most of it," Karen said seriously, wondering just how much she should tell him about what had happened to her in the years since she'd left his ward and his bed.
When Karen and George returned to George's house, they both knew that the moment had come, to shatter all of George's hopes that she might still look even slightly beautiful. "Please will you stay with me, while I do this?" George asked hesitantly. "Yes, if you want me to," Karen assured her. But seeing the level of sheer terror in George's face, she said, "You don't have to do this now, not if you're not ready for it." "I've got to do it some time, darling," George said matter-of-factly. "So it may as well be now." Putting out her arms, Karen drew George against her, holding her close just for a moment, to try and give her the strength to follow through with her intention. "Come on," George said, gently detaching herself from Karen's comforting embrace. "Let's get it over and done with." As Karen followed her up the stairs, she wondered what reaction George was about to have to seeing what she now looked like. It could be absolutely anything from tears to anger, and Karen had to be prepared to deal with whatever happened.
Once in her bedroom, George drew the stool out from the dressing table and placed it in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. As she removed her blouse and bra, she kept her gaze fixed steadily on the wall above the bed, refusing to even glance at the mirror until she was ready. "You might want to put that back on, just over your shoulders," Karen advised her. "That way, if you want to cover up in a hurry, you can do." Shrugging back into her blouse after removing her bra, George held the two halves together as she moved to sit on the stool in front of the mirror. "Do you have any idea how terrified I am?" George asked, as Karen took a seat on the end of the bed, close enough to offer support, but far enough away to give her space. "Tell me," Karen invited noncommittally. "So much rides on this," George tried to explain. "I know it sounds stupid, and I know that you think John will be the perfect gentlemen, in that how I look won't affect him in the slightest, but I can't think like that. I wish I could, but I can't. I can't help thinking that if I loathe, hate and despise the way I look, John will to some degree too. He might say that he loves me, but it's almost to reassure himself as much as it is me." "Would you prefer not to know?" Karen asked, knowing that if George replied in the affirmative, Karen would have to try to persuade her otherwise. "No," George said firmly. "I might want to immediately recoil from what I see, but I do need to see it."
As George gently parted the two halves of her blouse, Karen found herself holding her breath. She personally thought that there was nothing wrong with George's scar, but that said nothing for how George would react to it herself. As she took that inevitable step of looking at what she now had left, George felt a wave of nausea sweeping over her. On one side, there was a small, firm, almost perfect breast, the breast she was used to seeing. But on the other side, there was no breast. There was merely a scar, a scar that ran from her breastbone to under her arm, diagonally across a flat expanse of skin, that was as flat as the day she was born. There was no nipple, no darker-skinned areola, no ripe heaviness of flesh that John had loved to fondle, and that had once provided Charlie with her only nourishment. No! George's mind shouted at her, no, this couldn't possibly be her body, not the body she'd once been so proud to inhabit. As the colour drained from her face, she rose hurriedly from the stool, frantically trying to do up the buttons, to hide away from how ugly that empty space appeared to her. As Karen put out a hand to her, George rushed passed her and towards the bathroom, finally losing the meagre contents of her stomach as her body strove to expel this vile ugliness that was now part of her.
When George emerged, having splashed her face with water and cleaned her teeth, Karen took her hand, and pulled her to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Are you all right?" Karen asked in concern, taking in the distinct lack of colour in George's cheeks. "No, not really," George said a little shakily. Putting out her arms, Karen tried to offer the only comfort she really knew how to give, but George put up a hand to stop her. "Darling, it's really very sweet of you to be here, but I think I need to do this on my own." "And I can't agree that you should be alone," Karen told her honestly, not entirely trusting George not to do something thoroughly stupid. "I know you don't," George replied with a slight smile. "But in this instance, I know that it's the right thing to do, for me. I need to take my own time to get used to this, not something that I think is going to be very pretty. Before you ask, I will be saying exactly the same to Jo and John, because just at the moment, I think I could handle their company far less than I can yours." "I don't want you to have to go through this alone," Karen said, a few tears rising to her eyes. "I know," George said quietly, gently touching her cheek. "But it's something I honestly have to do." "All right," Karen agreed with a heavy heart. "Just promise to call me if you change your mind. Either me, or John or Jo, any one of us would be here like a shot."