uh oh, I'm becoming an enthusiast

Breast cancer is not my pet issue. It's something I'm doing, sure, but my deal is HIV/TB/malaria/refugees/SGBV/FGM/other stuff you don't want me to explain. Breast cancer is high profile, and famous people get it, so I'm not terribly worried about it being funded and fair. I dislike pink. I'm ambivalent about ribbons. I already did triathlons.

But I admit that when my friend Roy gave me a well-worn bright yellow Livestrong rubber wristband to wear, mysteriously alluding to its deep and meaningful history, I took it and I've been averse to taking it off. Recently my physical therapist took it off without asking, which was completely jarring (she's very nice, grabbiness notwithstanding, plus I can move my right arm now, so that's pretty cool). Point being that now I'm a cancer-wristband type of person.

And tonight in the Miami Herald I saw something that drew my enthusiasm like only Paul Farmer or trauma surgery manuals usually can. www.mamorial.org. I've signed up to have what's left of my chest casted. I doubt they have a shortage of white womens' post-BC chests in their repertoire, but I really do think I have interesting carnage.

Definitely watch for the Mamorial in Seattle, in a few years, as a fine followup to the cadaver show Bodies.