We are back from York Hospital after my first post-operative appointment since the fit and seemingly healthy woman that was yours truly let the medical team at York write on me, then slice me and dice me two weeks ago. It's also a week since Mavis the drain and I ended our intimate relationship - actually I've had complaints about calling her Mavis because I know a Mavis and very lovely she is too. Other name suggestions have been offered by friends based on the names of the women their ex-husbands went off with but I hope my drain-naming days are over.
My plan for today was not just to get the results which I had had on the phone over a week ago. The consultant, who reminds me disturbingly of a very tall pixie and is more than a little eccentric, told me those. Whilst I am worried about (amongst other things) hair loss, his stands vertically like Jedward - though rather less of it. Anyway, he is chuffed with his work and my lumpiness (which is far more widespread than the lump ever was) is apparently to be expected. Now what I want to know is:
1 What happens next?
2 How bad will I feel?
3 What are my chances?
4 Will I lose my hair and if I do, will it grow back quickly because I am to be MOB next autumn. Cryptic clue here - work it out!
Anyway king of the pixies wasn't up for giving me any of that because he has now deftly passed the parcel to the oncologist whom I will see tomorrow. Another day outing to York but it has to be done so no point in moaning. However, Kim, the breast cancer nurse is much more helpful. If I say yes to chemo tomorrow (vanity and fear of nausea apparently are not good enough excuses) I will have six rounds of chemo in three week cycles. I will feel sick, feel fatigued and other side effects which I have unwisely googled and none of them are worth having or even including here. Will someone please tell me something good!
My chances are also to be discussed tomorrow because I am one of those people who likes to know everything, then at least fate can't come up behind you and goose you which is how I feel at present. I'll let you know on that one... probably.
Re hair, my chances are apparently one in three of keeping my hair which are not good odds. But we'll give it a shot and hope for the best for the reason stated above. Just don't put your house on it.
So is this knowledge helping? Not really at present but I guess ultimately it will. I would have liked to have got all the bad news stuff out of the way today, having steeled myself but that was not to be.
But I did learn something yesterday. Gentlemen: look away now! I am an under-wire girl but with under-wire comes pain. So new foundation garments required and I'm shopping online. Tick the box marked 'no underwire' and I am presented with the following:
1 Teen bras - I think that horse may have bolted.
2 Sports bras - I have plenty of those already and it's like having your bosom bandaged.
3 Mastectomy bras - no, I still have two, thank the Lord.
4 Nursing bras - same as number 1.
5 Old lady bras - think Hilda Baker, Mrs Brown, Les Dawson in drag, Mrs Slocombe - need I say more?
So £250 later and a whole selection of most of the above is on its way to try and if you see me and I am re-arranging myself in a comedic manner, be so kind as to look away!
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