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I sighed. “Better. But the doctor also just pressed my morphine button, so…”

“I was on morphine once, you know. A little ball drip thing fastened around my waist in a fanny pack.”

“That when you got your boobs done?”

I didn’t catch the question before it flew out of my mouth. But I was kind of glad I didn’t. Because it launched Cecilia into another story of her life I would have never expected from her.

“Actually, yes. It was a reconstructive surgery I got when I was twenty. Saved up almost my entire life for it.”

I paused. “Reconstructive surgery?”

She giggled. “Yep. I left home when I was seventeen, after graduating high school early. And in between part-time classes at the local community college, I took on a job. Saved up as much as I could while living with three other girls in a two-bedroom apartment to save up enough money to have it corrected. And boy, was that a surgery.”

“What was the defect?”

“Its technical name is ‘tubular hypoplasia,’ or something like that. It essentiall