The Breast Blog: Tsunamis

Three times, I have vacationed in South East Asia during the holiday season. Twice in Thailand. Once is south east India. This year, as I sat on my comfortable couch, sipping brandy and eggnog, watching the gentle flames in my fireplace and listening to CBC Radio , my ears perked up and my body grew stiff. A tidal wave of incomprehensible proportions had ravaged the very coastal villages and beaches that I was familiar with.

The very early radio reports included live interviews with some of the victims. Once in particular stuck out and has been haunting me ever since.

A woman recounted how she, her husband and 16 year old Downs Syndrome son were sitting at a beach front cafe in Thailand enjoying breakfast - I imagined fresh fruit, yogurt, instant coffee and fresh squeezed juice set on a table firmly planted in the sand. The air would have been fragrant, warm and soft to the skin. The sound of surf, rustling palm branches, putt putt of motor bikes, a dog, rooster and tropical bird song mixed with western music likely greeted the ears.

The woman, hysterically recounted how suddenly, without warning, a giant wave came crashing down on them, sweeping her son away. Away. Gone. Dead. Incomprehensible pain. Impossible agony. A mother's son ripped from her bosom. Raw, human tragedy. I felt the shock of grief.

Further reports suggest that tens of thousand children have died in the Indian Ocean coastal communities affected by the Tsunamis. Children pulled from their mothers arms. Children swept away from the safety of their mother's breasts.

Imagine the horror.

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