I’ve been naked in front of everyone in a lab coat from Layton, UT to South Jordan, and not only did no one tuck a dollar into the strings of my gown, they were so traumatized by the experience that they all sent me big bills to compensate for their pain and suffering. One day the plastic surgeon doing my reconstruction poked his head in and got a puzzled look on his face. “You look different,” he said. I was wearing clothes.

When I first learned I would need a double mastectomy, I had to transfer my care to the Huntsman Cancer Institute in Salt Lake City because none of the other plastic surgeons would take my insurance, and I thought it wiser to work with a cohesive team, rather than disparate groups that didn’t talk to each other. The Huntsman was wonderful, by the way; I had excellent care! But when I went to meet with my new general surgeon, I was feeling a little grumbly about starting over, and when the good natured resident came in to get my history and hand me a gown, I pointed out that I’d like to meet the new guy as a person rather than a specimen. This is a serious conundrum in a hospital where doctors need track shoes to run from room to room, squeezing in all the possible sick and afflicted. That poor young doctor stood twisting in his skin, wanting to accommodate the patient, and wondering at the consequences of calling in the busy surgeon to talk, then making him cool his heels in the hallway while I changed. His smile remained sweetly fixed, but I could see this in his eyes and took pity, accepting the gown, and waiting for the surgeon without benefit of armor. They say clothes make the man; what did that make me?

A few years ago we were in Thailand riding elephants up a steep switchback trail in the mountains, and I was watching our little mahout who perched on the elephant’s bare neck, steering the great animal with nothing but his bare feet on its ears. Feeling all one with nature and human kindnessy, I glanced to my right at the big bull elephant above us on the switchback. “That poor thing, he’s got an extra leg just swinging free a few inches from the ground. Why don’t they–” . . . Oh—uh mm. There are just some things you can never unsee. Read More