Instead of staying just Thursday night in the hospital after my mastectomy, I stayed five because of the necrosis: the dead skin on my suture had to be removed during follow-up surgery on Monday. My mother hired a woman to spend the first night with me; she was very useful and comforting. Monica helped me maneuver myself in and out of bed and gave me sips of water - I was hooked up to many wires and had limited use of my left arm. I wanted assistance the rest of my hospital stay so, as my boyfriend and I walked the hospital hallways, I asked him to stay the weekend with me. "Well, I didn't bring my retainer," he replied. I wondered if he was serious as he continued, "Do you want my teeth to get crooked?" I just got my breast chopped off and my 52 year old partner was worried about not having his retainer for one night? I expressed my astonishment, to which he replied by calling me the equivalent of a female dog. I wheeled my IV to a corner of the hospital and sobbed. Is this what the beast has made my life come to?