Monthly Archives: December 2009
I am now officially discharged from the breast clinic; at my visit yesterday the plastic covering was peeled off and I got the results of the biopsy of the lump taken out. The plastic covering was steadily peeled off by the nurse and this was much less of an issue that I thought it would be – it wasn’t particularly painful with only a small bleed from the scar around my areola. You can barely see the scar, especially when compared to the dark bruising of my nipple and the red rash i’ve picked up from the Tegaderm covering. Nice…
My consultant poked around a bit to check how things were healing internally – now this was fucking sore! My poor boob was very painful for the rest of the day and it’s only today that things seem to have calmed down. Anyway, the official verdict on what I had – “Chronic inflammation with a touch of mastitis.” Yes, something different from what I was told before; at least it’s out now and so I will know if anything else pops up that it’s not that. I asked whether it would be likely to reoccur – yes, possibly, but not necessarily in the same place.
I don’t quite understand how I can have mastitis without breastfeeding or a piercing; the “chronic inflammation” I guess is the fibrocystic breast changes I had read about before. It’s all rather confusing.
Anyway, post-boob poke I went into town with Leia Ewok Village and had an awesome evening drinking to excess and making fun of drunken fools stupid enough to try and approach me. I wore the sequinned shorts and was amused to see that wherever I moved about many eyes would follow. Of course, the one you want to notice you never does…
So New Years- I am spending it alone and inside away from the freeeezing weather. I’ve bought myself steak which I will have medium rare with fried potatoes and salad; I plan to do this however my sense of taste and smell is decidedly ropey post-boozing, so I may lay off the steak and have fried eggs instead. Whatever I eat i’m going to drink lots of juice and watch Cleopatra and marvel at Elizabeth Taylor and the awesome costumes. I will not be crying in the corner or staring wistfully into the distance. Hooray.
Here’s to a better year…
I’m back in my nest after nearly a week en famille… I spent most of that time getting pissed off at my Dad and losing my sense of taste and smell; although I am away from my father I have not entirely regained my senses. Imagine Christmas dinner without them. Yeah, oohhh sooo fun.
Later today I have my follow up appointment at the clinic where, I presume, they’ll remove my plastic wound cover – as i’ve previously written I am not looking forward to this. My boob has been sore over the last week- when sleeping I notice that the pressure from my duvet makes it feel rather tender. I think the healing is going well and hope that the soreness is just hormonal; time and the medical powers-that-be will tell I suppose.
Later on i’m going to wear my new overly short sequinned shorts into town for cocktails with Leia Ewok Village; it’s faaar too chilly for such attire but, whatever, after a week away from having personal time and space- I NEED BOOZE.
I hope that everyone reading this has as stress-free a festive period as is possible; I hope that you get to spend it somewhere warm where you can occasionally feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m off up North to play some DS and see my family when i’m not playing :) I think the train’s going to be a bit on the nightmarish-side, but better that than attempting to drive.
I’m going to leave a nice big pile of washing up to greet me upon my return – I really do need to have a proper tidy up. It will be nice to see family and aunts, uncles and cousins, but just as last year I felt sad because MW#1 was in the process of interviewing to leave for Dubai, this year I will again feel sad at his behaviour and his loss from my life.
Re-reading entries from around this time last year I am reminded of the sadness I felt, the moments where I felt happy or hopeful. I know that although this grouch might be surrounded by people that love and care for me I am going to feel rather lonely when everyone has gone to bed and I curl up alone in my adolescent bed.
Good lord I am very glad I live so close to the town centre i.e. within walking distance; last night it took some motorists SEVEN hours to travel less than one mile… Nightmare. Loads abandoned their cars at the side of the road and people faced hours long walks through freezing conditions. Nice to see that the council sorted the grit and salt out before anyone suffered…
Oh, and it’s a damned good thing that I chose to get operated on last week- today my local hospital has cancelled all elective surgery. Oh the joy.
Soothing when the snow stops falling and you’ve got to find a way to fill the time between dinner and bed:
Watching Star Trek: The Next Generation, specifically episodes where the Borg make an appearance- The one where the always excellent Q introduces the pesky cyber-Swedes and the two-parter where Picard is captured and turned into Locutus.
Awesome pop sci-fi that is not in any way as deep as Battlestar Galactica nor really as engaging, but due to the total piece of shit that the finale to BSG was, I can happily shout BOOOOM! at my laptop screen as the Borg Cube blows into smithereens.
Image taken from Memory Alpha: Battle of Wolf 359
My recovery is going well so far with the swelling in my breast dissipating and the pain lessening, although after time spent walking or moving about it does get a bit uncomfortable and I have to reach for the successful tag team of ibuprofen and paracetamol. OhhhYeaaahhhhh… I have to go back at the end of the month to get my dressing changed and my wound assessed; I am definitely not looking forward to having the clear plastic covering peeled off- UGH. It gives me The Fear just thinking about it. At least I don’t have to have my stitches removed (all dissolvable) but I can see under my shrink wrap that there are areas of wound in contact with the adhesive sheet…
The conversation I had with the Strapping Antipodean Anaesthetist went like this:
Strapping: So what medications are you taking?I guess he was talking about problems with higher concentrations of oxygen or an allergy to latex masks/tubing used in inducing the patient into unconsciousness…? A fun, totally wrong conversation to have anyway :)
Me: Nasonex for my nasal polyps, antihistamines for erm, life and microgynon for err, sex.
Strapping: (laughing) Ahh, so you’re not allergic to that then?
Me: Erm, no! but I read about a woman who was-
Me: Yes, she was allergic to semen, so they couldn’t have kids.
Strapping: Ah… Well I had a patient once who was allergic to oxygen!
Me: Really? That is super odd…
Outside the snow is falling steadily and thickly; although I have driven through snow before I reeaaally do not fancy taking on the drive to visit my familial home up North- it’s not the hours of motorway driving that is the problem, it’s when I get off the motorway and have to spend a half hour or so driving along wiggly country roads that have many bends and hilly sections- snow on its own i’d be prepared to tackle but snow that has partially melted and so is topped with a layer of ice? Ermmm *not* so much- I can see me and MR T ending up in a ditch together. How romantic.
Over the weekend I visited Bobby Convey and MG for Crap Crimbo, the annual event of poor gift giving and epic food and booze consumption. It was lovely to see so many people and I felt better than I had felt wandering about town the previous day; I felt very glum indeed as I manoeuvred my way through the Christmas shoppers and excitable children, thinking about my operation, this time of year and all the supposed happiness that is associated with it and the disparity with that and how I usually feel.
The behaviour of MW#1 is proving particularly difficult to deal with at the moment, what with the “festive” period and my operation. His near refusal to communicate with me is infuriating, and what messages he does send end up riling me more with their “Hey! I’m going to write something non-committal that doesn’t answer any questions before finishing off with something disingenuous” format. He’s not around for me to offload how I feel nor does he respond to any question I ask so all I can do is mutter “Jesus FUCKING Christ!” to myself and internalise my outrage.
Instead of me having to suffer through all this bullshit, this is how things should have gone BACK IN AUGUST:
MW#1: Hey.. I think I need some time away from things to think through stuff regarding you and me…Of course, this reasonable behaviour is just a fantasy; I think it’s rather sad that all i’m asking for is “reasonable”, like that’s something so alien. His poor communication makes me feel like throwing the towel in, or at the very least being very rude :) He repeatedly refuses to answer my queries as to an estimate of how much time he might need to consider things – not even a “I don’t know”, so I am left in limbo, unable to move on unless I end things, but lacking the knowledge to do so- i.e. if he needs another month, what would be the point in ending it?
Me: Okay… I understand… How long do you think you need? To sort through things and get back to me I mean
MW#1: Errr.. Six months..? I’m not really sure…
Me: Okay. How about you take six months and update me then on what you think? Like get in touch if anything major happens etc.
MW#1: Will do. I just need some time to sort stuff out? Berlin has got me thinking about a lot of things
Me: I understand what you mean
MW#1: Thank you.. :)
Me: Okay so set a date of the end of February?
MW#1: Yup. Will get in contact with you then
Me: Cool. Well, take care of yourself Fuzzball… Love you muchly… x
On the other hand, maybe he’s trying to force my hand and make me end things? Maybe his behaviour is calculated? If this is the case my sitting things out makes sense, as there is no way i’m going to give in to that sort of shit.
Whatever the case, I get the impression that what will probably happen is he’ll send an email saying something along the lines of “Sorry, I can’t” and i’ll have no right of reply and will thus spend about a bajillion hours being furious. So reasonable and so, so helpful. UGH.
Anyway, i’m heading up North on Wednesday and will spend a few days far away from all of this shite yet thinking about it every day. FUN TIMES.
The surgery went well it seems- no puking, hitting myself or talking rubbish. I’m sore and feel very tired and a little glum as well as unwell; boob-wise things don’t look too bad, with my right breast looking less full than the other but not overly so- under the clear dressings I can see a scar of around an inch or so running around the top of the areola.
The nurses were smiley and lovely and everything was uber efficient – I was out by half twelve; Leia Ewok Village looked after me feeding me a bacon sarnie, lots of coffee and daytime television and I got lots of very kind messages of support from loads of people. Bad times, but good times… at the same time. Heh. Anyway, an early night and a long lie in tomorrow… More info to come when I feel a bit more like updating; I had an excellent conversation with the rather strapping Antipodean anaesthetist on the subject of semen. Yes, really.
Yes, sorry, been crap on the updates front. Just not felt like it, slobbing out any chance I can get… I’ve seen Caversham Princess, Leia Ewok Village, Grande Homme Brum et La Rousse at various points over the last few weeks; i’ve got my hair cut super short and virtually all my red hair is gone. I’ve spent a fair bit of time being sad and vexed by the behaviour of MW#1 and quite a lot of time feeling like i’m a bug being tortured under a magnifying glass. The light – It BURNS.
Away from the chalkface as of today for two weeks and i’m off to the chop shop tomorrow; i’m apprehensive but prepared. Will take a few pics of my boobs tonight just in case; i’m going in horribly early – 7.30am – and will be taking the DS with me to pass the time in the Adult Day Surgery Unit. Woo. Am glad it’s only fifteen minutes walk to the hospital from my den- the blizzards today do not bode well for tomorrow morning when it’s dark…
Mantronix & Joyce Sims