Good Day – Part 1

‘Good Day’ by Greg Street featuring Nappy Roots blared as my iPhone alarm went off.  “Ugh, it’s 5:30am already” I thought to myself as I decided to reset my alarm for 6am.  Thirty more minutes would make a big difference. At least I thought so. I had been making an effort to get to work earlier since returning from having a major surgery.  

I had undergone a double reduction mammaplasty (also known as a breast reduction) a little over a month before, August 9 to be exact.  The surgery was to be the pinnacle of my ‘transitioning’ year.  I was turning forty in just a couple of months.  I’d been wanting a breast reduction since I was twelve.  I started rockin’ a training bra at age nine and then they just kept growing and growing.  By twelve I was stealing my mom’s 38 C cup bras to wear. I am now sure that this was not the proper bra size for me at the time but I definitely filled out the cups.

My breasts had been such a source of angst, frustration and embarrassment.  That doesn’t even account for physical problems that came along with them.  It didn’t matter how much I weighed either.  My breasts didn’t seem to be affected very much at all by weight loss or gain. They were one of the few consistent aspects of my life.  

At age 36 I finally got an official bra fitting and learned that even though I’d been wearing a 40 DD cup since high school, I was actually a 36 G or DDD cup depending on the cut of the bra.  At age 39, I had come to terms with my breasts.  I no longer resented them or tried to hide them.  I truly embraced them.  They were a part of me and had been for almost as long as I could remember.  However, it was time to let go of some that heavy weight, mostly for health reasons. I suffered from a herniated disc, probably as a result of a car accident I’d had when I was seventeen. My back, shoulders, and neck were constantly stressed under the weight of my breasts. For years doctors had suggested I have a reduction but I wanted to wait at least until I had kids. I always thought I’d have kids and as big as my breasts were they should at least be used for something productive...sigh.  

But I was 39 and no kids yet, not even the potential for any on the horizon. I wasn’t in a relationship and not even interested in dating at this point. I was still recovering from what I thought was the most painful and massive betrayal of my life which had occurred almost a year before. The whole idea of where I thought my life would be at this point was completely different and I had finally become ‘okay’ with that.  Hence time for breast reduction. I wanted to feel better physically, exercise easier, and buy cute tops for a change. My surgeon removed 5.5 pounds from my breasts and I felt lighter in every way.  

I was six weeks post op that Monday morning. Sleeping was still not quite comfortable because I had to sleep propped up. I couldn’t sleep on my side or stomach yet which were my favorite positions. Thirty minutes of extra sleep seemed crucial to me and so after resetting my alarm I lay back down to savor the extra few minutes. 

‘Good Day’ began playing again. It was 6am and I needed to get up.  Most of my coworkers in the Small Business Innovation and Research (SBIR) program got to work between 5:30-6am. They all lived outside of Washington, DC and commuted in. Beating traffic was important to them. My commute to work was all of 30 minutes via Metro and the Circulator bus as long as I hit the transfers just right. My coworker, Jennifer and I had begun meeting another coworker, Tammy for coffee in the mornings. Tammy worked in SEA 02, the NAVSEA contracting department, and she got to work early too. They liked to go down to the cafeteria around 7am but 7:30am was the earliest I could get there.

I sat up and checked my phone for any texts I may have missed while I was sleeping. I noticed the date. It was September 16th. This was significant because it was my goddaughter’s birthday. Lauren was turning 13 years old, such a significant age. Thinking about Lauren made me smile. She had such a vibrant and strong personality. I loved watching her blossom mainly via her Facebook page since she lived in Arizona. I moved from Phoenix shortly after she was born but tried to visit at least once a year. I would Facetime or Skype with her later to say Happy Birthday.

I climbed into the shower. I had to be cautious in getting washed and dressed as my breasts were still very tender, my scars still fresh. I’d recently been released to resume my regular physical activities.  This was important because I’d  practiced Bikram Yoga for almost six years. I hadn’t been able to practice in over a month, the longest I’d gone since I began. I could also now lift items heavier than 5 pounds and stretch my arms more. I had been feeling pretty limited since the surgery.

I got dressed after incorporating my new routine of applying moisturizing scar gel to my breasts. They were looking good. I was still getting used to them and was still a little surprised when I looked down or saw them in the mirror. They didn’t look like me yet but I liked them. I chose to wear a ruby, high neck, sleeveless blouse and some basic black work slacks. I had to teach that evening at the University of DC Community College and this outfit would be comfortable for the long day ahead.    

I cooked beets and grilled pork chops the night before. In fact a pot of beets were still on the stove. How did I forget to put those up? I decided to make a beet salad and take a pork chop for lunch. I packed my lunch and put it in my work bag along with my 3 inch, black suede Kenneth Cole Reaction wedges. I always wore my ‘Metro’ shoes en route to work. My ‘Metro’ shoes were some Sketcher slip ons that I could easily run around in. They allowed for an easier time running up escalators and making a mad dash to catch the bus or train when needed.  

It was forecasted to be near 80 degrees but it was only in the 60’s as I was walking out so I grabbed my favorite black blazer and headed down the three flights of stairs to my condo  parking lot where my Jeep was located. Technically I only lived a mile from the Deanwood Metro station. I could walk and had done so in the past but lately getting an extra 15 minutes of sleep became more important so I drove the 1 mile to the metro. I’m a little embarrassed to admit this but ‘it is what it is’ and I was recovering from surgery.

It was around 6:45am when I parked on 48th street next to what used to be Ron Brown Middle School. As per usual, there was already a line of cars with Maryland tags parked on this street. Since the street was beside the Deanwood Recreation Center and Library and the old Ron Brown Middle School, all day street parking was free. To avoid paying the $4.75 per day to park in the Metro lot, early commuters parked on this street. I placed the Club on my steering wheel (my 1999 Jeep Cherokee Sport had been stolen twice since moving to the DC area in 2000) and grabbed my work bag and purse. I crossed the street to walk up the west side of 48th street. In March I had witnessed a man approximately 30 feet in front of me robbed at gunpoint by two young men during my morning walk up that sidewalk to the Metro. It happened on the east side of 48th street, right on the sidewalk. I almost walked right into the robbery before my mind processed what I was actually seeing. Fortunately, the man was not injured and although I know the robbers saw me, they chose to jump back in their silvery green Nissan Altima and speed away. Since then, I chose to only walk on the west side of the street. There weren’t as many cars parked there because of the two hour parking limit so people walking on the sidewalk were more visible. This made me feel safer.

At the station entrance was my favorite Washington Post Express distributor. Every morning without fail he commented on how beautiful he thought I was. This made me smile and feel appreciated. He paid attention to detail, always noticing how I put my outfits together. I never took the paper from him because I chose to get my morning news from Twitter but we always engaged in some quick communication. He gave me something to look forward to as I went to work each day. Who doesn’t want to hear that they are beautiful each day as they head into work?

I said hello to the station manager as I went through the turnstile and then rode the escalator up to the platform. I walked to the section of the platform where I needed to board the train in order to get off right at the escalators when we reached the Eastern Market station.  I could now put my earphones in and listen to Pandora on my iPhone. Before I got my music flowing, I received a call from Jennifer.  She wanted to know if I was going to make it into the office by 8am. Dean, my client and the program manager, had decided to schedule an 8am meeting (at 6:30am that morning).  She knew that my usual arrival time had been around 8:30am although I had been showing up earlier to do the coffee thing. I let her know that I was already en route  and would definitely be there by 8am. I then waited for the Orange line train to Vienna and selected the Jamiroquai Pandora station to get me to work that day.  

I began to check Facebook to see what everyone was up to this morning. I was getting my usual morning chuckle from Shane B Johnson’s posts. He is simultaneously  one of the most intelligent and hilarious human beings I personally know. His post from the night before was “ I believe the Holy Ghost just spoke some stewed Turkey Wings (or turkey necks) into my spirit. I believe I also heard the spirit say something about some Great Northern white Beans, a pot of rice, and some Collard greens”.  While others may have found this sacreligious, I found it freakin’ hilarious. He doesn’t know it but Shane’s FB posts got me to work during one of the most difficult times in my life.

The train pulled up and I jumped on. I rarely sat down even though there were usually open seats that early in the morning. Deanwood was the first stop inside the District of Columbia. Not many people had boarded the train yet so there was plenty of space. Since the surgery I was even more particular about standing versus sitting. I was still tender and sore from the surgery. Someone brushing up against me or knocking me the wrong way could be painful.  I thought about how this made me much more aware of my personal space and much more sensitive to what others may be secretly going through while riding the Metro. It wasn’t like a broken bone where you were wearing a cast and people were forewarned that you were injured.  This was a hidden injury. I wasn’t wearing a sign saying “please don’t brush up against me, I just had my breasts reduced and they’re really sore”.  How funny would it be to wear a sign like that?

I made it to the Eastern Market stop and checked my NextCirculator app to see how much time before the next Circulator to Navy Yard. It was my preferred bus to the Navy Yard because it had a stop right in front of the 5th street entrance. I could also take the Circulator to Barracks Row or the 90,92, and 96. They all drop me a few blocks up from the Navy Yard.  I was in luck this morning. I had two minutes before the Circulator to Navy Yard pulled up.  

I waited and happily listened to my Jamiroquai Pandora station.  As the Circulator pulled up, a Daft Punk song came on. Daft Punk had scored a mainstream hit that summer with the help of Pharrell Williams. ‘Get Lucky’ was a great dance tune and had  become a reminder of my friend Christopher.  He accompanied me to my company’s summer event. Which for the past few years had been attending a Washington Nationals game. As we were leaving the game in my Jeep, ‘Get Lucky’ came on the radio. We were stopped at a red light and Christopher and I danced as hard as one possibly could in the confines of a Jeep Cherokee. There was a Jeep Wrangler behind us at the stop light with passengers laughing at how hard we were dancing and so Christopher turned around at pointed to them to start dancing and they did! It was hilarious and so much fun. On a different occasion I was driving Christopher home from a night of hanging out and ‘Get Lucky’ came on the radio again.  Christopher made me pull over so he could get out and dance on the sidewalk. Hearing Daft Punk in general also made me think of my friend, Jeff. Years ago when I first discovered Daft Punk, Jeff shared my appreciation of them.  As the bus pulled up to the Navy Yard entrance I updated my Facebook status “Listening to Daft Punk (not just that song commercial radio decided to play) reminds me of Jeff & Christopher. #musicremindsmeoffriends”.  

I walked into the Navy Yard entrance in a good mood.  This is an important detail. 2013 had been the most challenging year of my life up to that point. The end of 2012 ended with me being in the worst depression I’d ever experienced. I had wanted to die, not commit suicide-die, but just not go on living. I was hurt more than I ever thought possible, physically and emotionally, by someone I trusted, loved. Then there was the armed robbery that I witnessed earlier in the year. It shook me up a little and put even more of a dent in my perception of safety.  

Shortly after the armed robbery I made the decision to pursue getting the breast reduction but had to have a mammogram as a precaution before scheduling surgery.  A lump was found in my left breast which turned out to be benign but it gave me cause for concern.  The biopsy was so invasive and painful, I almost felt like the surgery was easier. At least I was asleep for the surgery.  

I was also turning 40 this year and coming to terms with the reality that life had not gone as planned. I’d been seeing a therapist since the end of 2012 and it was helping me face my reality. I was learning to be okay with where I was in life and determine the direction I should move in next.  In the midst of therapy a repressed memory of being sexually assaulted at age 17 resurfaced. 2013 had given me quite a bit to deal with so being in a good mood was something to be acknowledged.  

As I exited the bus I noticed that my favorite security guard was at the 5th street Navy Yard entrance that morning. He had a cute sense of humor and a very military, veiled way to flirt and make me smile. This particular morning I was wearing sunglasses even though it was a little overcast. I had laser eye surgery in 2007 and even on overcast days my eyes were sensitive so I always wore sunglasses when I was outside.  As the guard checked my federal common access card (CAC) he looked at me, smiled and said ‘incognito’ referring to my sunglasses. We both laughed and I walked toward building 197.

It was roughly 7:30am and I would have just enough time to get to my desk, put my lunch in the kitchen, check a few emails and head to this impromptu 8am meeting. I walked into the glass doors of the main entrance of 197 and shut down my phone. No one was allowed to have phones, laptops, tablets, or devices of any kind with recording capability unless it was government issued. There was a phone locker located on the far right wall as soon as you walked into the building. The locker would get full so it was good to arrive early when there were still open lockers. If the lockers were full you had to go to some neighboring buildings and see if they had open lockers. If they didn’t you either waited till a locker opened up or you snuck your device in. Many people did the latter. There were plenty of free lockers this morning and I unlocked A48, inserted my phone and placed the key in my blazer pocket. This always ensured that I didn’t leave my blazer at work since I had to have the key to get my phone when I left.  

I looked over at the security office. It was enclosed in glass so you could see inside. I had made friends with the team that distributed building badges, visitor badges, and parking passes. As a contractor it took me almost six months before I received a permanent badge to access 197 even though this was my assigned work space. I had to visit the security office every morning for six months and got to know the security team rather well. I began to bring them back souvenirs whenever I traveled out of the country. Since working at NAVSEA I’d visited Japan, China, Panama, Aruba, and Puerto Rico. I always bought them back something as a token of appreciation. They were nice folks and many times not highly valued  because their job was perceived as menial by some. Even after receiving permanent access to the building, I would still stop by when I had the time and say hello.

This morning I was in a hurry, trying to get a few things in before the meeting.  They were all engrossed in providing passes for visitors. I saw Mike, the security guard that sat right outside the security office. He was a nice, mild-mannered man. I didn’t know him. We had very little interaction but occasionally I tried to smile and wave at him when I caught his eye. His job was also taken for granted. This particular morning I didn’t say hello. I was in too much of a hurry. I remember seeing him out of the corner of my eye. It would be the last time I ever saw him.

I walked up the stairs to the 2nd floor.  My program office had just moved from the 3rd floor in the west section of the building to the 2nd floor in the east section of the building. I used my CAC card to open the locked doors to access the floor. I walked towards the east section of the building, passing  faces, people, coworkers that I may or may not have seen or noticed before. There were so many people that worked in 197, somewhere around 3000.. Some I spoke to and some I just smiled or nodded at. I mainly recognized those who worked in close proximity to my workspace. When I worked on the 3rd floor it had been the Foreign Military Service team and some of the SHIPs folks. Now on the 2nd floor I worked near a SUBs division.  We referred to them as the ‘torpedo’ guys because that was their focus. We had moved to this section while I was out on leave with my surgery. I was still unfamiliar with this floor and this section of the building.

I got to my desk and set my laptop up. I never left it there because I never knew if I needed to do any work from home or another site. My new desk was right next to the missile atrium. I wasn’t in an open section of the atrium.  Glass muffled the noises from the other floors, especially the 1st floor. This was significant because I was right above the cafeteria and that could be a noisy area. Also, there were always events taking place in the atrium.  I actually liked having my desk there because I could see so many other parts of the building and not feel like I was enclosed in my little cubicle area. I could also look up and kind of see the sky since there were glass parts of the roof. 

After turning my laptop on, I switched shoes, putting on my 3 inch Kenneth Cole wedges and placed my ‘metro’ shoes under my desk. I took my lunch out and placed it on my desk. I had purchased a box of pumpkin spice latte packets from Starbucks in an effort to spend less money. I wanted to get to the kitchen to put my lunch in the refrigerator and make my latte but I noticed that I was running low on time before the meeting. I had about 7 minutes and I needed to check email. Starting my laptop and logging into the Navy system always took a few minutes.  After changing shoes, they system was completely booted. I checked a few emails and then it was time to head to the meeting. I grabbed my steno pad that I used to take notes, a pen and headed to Dean’s office where the meeting would be held.