My Dream Came True

Posted by Mary-Tomasi-Dubois in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 0 comments

In 1975, a year after a difficult divorce, I decided to do something special for myself and get silicone implants. It was no big deal, everyone was doing it.

After scheduling surgery for the following spring, I decided to visit my best friend, Nancy, and tell her my exciting news. When I arrived, Nancy introduced me to Cici, her house guest from the Southland. Cici was a delight, and the three of us sat around Nancy’s pool, laughing and engaging in girl talk. Suddenly, Cici stopped talking and just stared at me. “You’re going to meet the love of your life, and very soon!”

“What?” I gasped. Nancy and I looked at one another…she as puzzled as I.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sometimes I get these vivid images whenever I’m around people I bond with and I just have to blurt out what they’re telling me. I got this clear image that you were meeting the man of your dreams.”

“Well, who wouldn’t welcome that,” I said, and we all laughed and continued our bantering. I didn’t tell either of them I was ready to meet another man and settle down. I liked married life and wanted it again with the right guy. I even had a recurring dream… I open my front door and a tall, dark-haired man in a dark suit is standing there. His only words are: “I’ve been looking for you all my life!”

I was about to leave when Cici invited Nancy and I to stay with her in Huntington Beach. Ready for a long weekend getaway; the two of us drove down on a Friday in late June. After a grueling eight hours we finally arrived at Cici’s. One of her favorite bands was playing at the Newporter Inn and we were three women, free and ready to party!

Nancy and I took a quick shower and nap. Two hours later we were ready for cocktails, hors d’oeurvres, and some dancing. The band began playing and the three of us sipped and ate. First Nancy was asked to dance, then Cici, and finally me. My dance partner was about my height. It wasn’t even two minutes into the slow dance when he whispered in my ear, “I’ve got a boat at the dock. You want to go out and…,” well, I’ll leave the rest of the sentence to your imagination.

I stomped back to my table, leaving the jerk on the dance floor. Two dances later, Nancy and Cici came back, too. I was mad, tired, and wanted to leave, but of course they didn’t. Off they went, again. I ordered another drink and sat there sipping angrily when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, ready to tell little Don Juan what an ass he was, when standing before me was a handsome, mild-mannered gentleman. He held out his hand and in a soft voice asked if I’d like to dance. I gave him the once over, ready to say no, then realized I was projecting my disdain for Don Juan on him and said yes.

We danced…and danced…and danced. Later that evening we walked hand in hand around the gardens of the Newporter. He was teaching back to back seminars at Cal Poly and between sessions was staying at the hotel. In the course of our conversation, we discovered that we were both from the Bay Area. We had even frequented the same local lounges, but strangely enough, hadn’t run into one another.

The evening was drawing to a close and the band announced the last dance, a slow one. Paul embraced me as though he never wanted to let me go. It was comfortable…it felt like home. We were saying goodbye when Paul asked for my phone number, but neither of us had a pen or paper. Using an old trick, he took the matchbook from the ashtray on his table, lit a match and used the carbon to write on the cover, saying he’d give me a call when we were both back home. In the meantime, Nancy had run into an acquaintance she had met on a previous visit with Cici. He was staying at the Newporter, too. As we were leaving he invited us to lunch at the pool the next day.

Who should I run into, but Paul! He joined us and we spent the day getting to know one another even better. Afternoon slipped into early evening and Nancy’s friend said he wanted to go out on the bay cruise around Lido Island in Newport Bay. He asked if we’d all be interested. Without hesitation we all said yes.

It was a beautiful full-mooned evening; the moon’s reflection like thousand of diamonds dancing on the water’s surface. Paul and I casually walked to the stern of the boat while everyone else stayed at the bow to watch the approaching island. Alone at the back, Paul took me in his arms and kissed me so tenderly I forgot where I was. When our lips parted we stood looking into one another’s eyes, lost to the world. Months later, when we spoke of this, we each had had the same sensation…that we had known one another throughout millennia!

Back home, Paul’s call came. He had business in Cupertino where I worked and asked if I would meet him for a drink across the street from my office. At five, I walked into the cocktail lounge, unable to see clearly due to the light transition. Paul greeted me from the shadows. There he was, standing in his dark suit…the vision from my dream. Later, as we were dancing, he whispered, “I’ve looked for someone like you all my life.” Not only the vision from my dream but the words, too!

We began dating and I told Paul of my plans for surgery. He insisted I was perfect the way I was, but said he would support my decision. Two years later, I proudly walked down the aisle satisfied with my new image.

People have always commented on how much in love we obviously are. Even after so many years, we are best friends, not just lovers. We’ve stood by each other through all kinds of crises: mourning the death of his parents; his help through the loss of mine. It was his shoulder I cried on when my only son went to war. His encouragement prompted me to finish college, allowing me to advance in my profession and believe that maybe someday, even become a writer.

Mystery Woman Writer

He was diagnosed with bladder cancer and we vowed we’d get through it together; but we never imagined twenty-five years later, that my seemingly simple decision to have breast implants would create an horrific ordeal.

Through the years, time and weight gain had taken their toll. My once high breasts were now appendages almost resting on my protruding belly. Horror stories of bursting implants and a myriad of problems circulated. My own breasts felt hard; but worse, I was losing sensation in the nipples.

Mad at myself for making such a foolish choice and wishing I had listened to Paul in the first place, I saw a doctor and had an MRI. Sure enough, I had leaking implants and needed surgery. Pockets of scar tissue had formed around globs of silicon. In recovery, I was assured everything had been removed. I’d hoped my breast tissue would shrink to what I originally had. But ironically, three years later, the shoulder indentations, stiff neck, and sweat-induced rash under each breast now prompted me to investigate breast reduction.

My new doctor detailed the procedure and its ramifications. The scheduled three-hour surgery escalated to five. Dr. Johnson arrived in post-op and explained the reason for the protracted time. He’d unexpectedly found numerous pockets of scar tissue surrounding residual silicon.

On our first visit to the Wound Care Center, the gaping holes in my chest where breasts once were almost caused Paul to faint.

Over the next year, I underwent a series of operations to reconstruct each breast. It was a grueling ordeal for both of us. All the while, Paul never complained. Most importantly he never once said “I told you so.” He tended my wounds and soothed me with reassuring words, “Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? It’s not just your outer beauty, it’s what’s inside that I love.”

It’s been three years since then. Paul and I are as much in love now as when we first met. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel grateful for the life that I have, and the man I was blessed to share it with. Cici was right when she told me that day that I was to meet the love of my life. While I had envisioned meeting him, I never imagined how much his care and loving support would really mean.

Door Photo By DarrylW4
Surgical Nurse Photo By tommiemask