Doris is a punk rocker.
Seriously. I love my dear, sweet Granny. She is in her late EIGHTIES, sharp as a tack and overflowing with love and life. Last month she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Her surgery coincided with the time I spent down in Carolina so I got to see her both before and after, super-market bouquet in hand. Happily, everything looks as though it turned out fine, it looks as though she won’t even need any follow-up treatment beyond simple medication.
While she was in the hospital, my Death Metal Aunt came over to my grandparents apartment in Chesapeake to cheer up my Grandfather (Leonard) with 3D Burlesque movies.
When we were conversing about her treatment options (removal of lump vs. removal of breast) she was nervously joking: "Take the whole thing! Leonard doesn’t see me as a SEX OBJECT anymore!" That’s Doris. Nothing but love.
