I stand at a podium on a stage in a room decorated with over 600 clowns of all shapes, sizes, colors, and styles about to give a eulogy to two of my best friends. Yes, two. I cannot believe this is happening to my friends of over ten years. Gone. But they were so fun-loving that this service inside a clown museum is somehow fitting.
We did everything together. They entered the room right in front of me, side by side. At times I’ll admit I was jealous of them. They always got the men’s eyes, even before me. Sometimes I wasn’t noticed at all. But they were fun. They were s a huge part of me. Literally. They were my DDD silicone implants that ruptured and almost killed me. And now they are lying in a coffin next to me. I am having a funeral service/roast of my tits show. My friends are all gathered to say goodbye and roast them and me.
“Tuesday had so much plastic in her the Donner Party would save her for last and use her as Tupperware for everyone else’s leftovers.”
“This is not the first time Tuesday had something under the age of 20 in her and I am sure it won’t be the last.”
“The first time I saw Tuesday I thought, that couldn’t be real, then I looked at her boobs and thought the same thing.”
People pass by the coffin and kneel right before they get on stage. It’s the best way to say goodbye to those two old friends who ended up almost killing me. They both ruptured without me knowing and leaked that nasty silicone throughout my system, slowly poisoning me.
At first, I thought I was getting food poisoning. But it happened three times a month. I’m not dirty, I’m not able to afford to eat out all the time, and I know how to wash and prepare food. So it can’t be food poisoning. I started seeing my doctor. Tests were run to rule out things, but over the course of time, I started getting sicker and sicker. My symptoms began to mimic severe fibromyalgia, Lyme disease (I am not an outdoors person, I live in LA), and more severe food poisoning symptoms. Nope, it’s not Celiac. No, it’s not MS. Over a year goes by and I’m not getting better, just worse.
Then I notice a lump on my breast. The doctor sends me to get a mammogram suspecting the worst. Meanwhile, my legs are swelling up regularly and my extremities go numb and prickly all the time.
The mammogram shows both implants have a small rupture and the silicone is coursing through my body. I am being poisoned to death, slowly. At this point, I’m barely able to get out of bed—let alone leave the house. I was sure my time was up. And I was getting what little affairs I had in order, coming to grips with the fact that I probably wasn’t going to be around much longer. So when the results came in, I was almost giddy with delight. Because I finally knew I wasn’t crazy and what was wrong with me. Just the week before I had to be rushed to ER because what they thought was a blood clot was causing extreme pain in my leg. It turns out it wasn’t. It was just my boobs taking over my whole body
Now all I needed to do was get them removed. Easy peasy, huh?
My old friend?
My insurance company fought with me for months. Told me it was cosmetic. And I had opted to put them in so I had to deal with the repercussions. WHAT!? I deserved this?! No way, as sick as I was I knew their game. Let’s fight her, so she gives up or dies, so we don’t have to pay. Well, they never met this NY Sicilian before. I was on the phone two to three times a day—every day—with my Doctor’s office and their people fighting, coordinating, and getting these out. I was not giving up.
Finally, after four months during which I continued to get sicker, I won. I did everything I could to hold on, including taking CBD oil. Every time I looked at my dog I thought who is going to take care of him if I left? I thought of my mother. A mother should never lose a child. I did my comedy. As much as I was sick, I saved up enough energy and once a week a friend would get me, and I would do a show. My comedy has always saved me, and it sure did this time.
My long-running dark comedy variety show, Freak Show, was born in that year of misery and sickness. It gave me a goal. It’s now the biggest show in LA over three years running to over 300 people a month. All those things made me live, and finally, I was able to get them out. A year and a half of slowly dying I now have a date to have them taken out.
The day of surgery I am driven to the hospital by friends. I go in knowing this will be over, and I have a purpose and a second chance. I have people who love and care for me. Things to do and people to see!
I get out of surgery and recovery. I feel a thousand times better than I have in the last year! Not 100 percent, but so much better.
My friend who was driving says as we get in the car, “Is there anything you want us to get you on the trip home, anything you need at the house?”
“Hell yes,” I respond. “I want a fucking In-N-Out burger and a fucking strawberry milkshake now!”
He looks back at me and turns to my other friend and says to her, “She’s back!” They both smile and off we go to get my order!
All above images copyright Tuesday Thomas.