When they told me I needed a mastectomy, I thought of the thousands of luncheons and dinners I had attended where they slapped a name tag on my left bosom. I always smiled and said, 'Now, what shall we name the other one?' That would no longer be a problem.
A member of the committee slapped a name tag over my left bosom. "What shall we name the other one?" I smiled. She was not amused.