You picture your tissue lying in a plastic garbage can in a sterile room with shiny floors and wonder what they will do with your breasts now that their work is done. Maybe you should have kept one. You wonder if you should ask for them back and bury them under the lilac near the cat. But then you wonder how you could ever sell a house that had your breasts buried in the yard.
When you think about selling your house, you realize you never took the surgeon's appointment recording from the tape deck of your old car. Someday, someone you don't know will press play and your grief will be out in the world without you, like your missing tissue.