Phew. Thursday. Bandage off day.
Today, due to a necessary chiropractic appointment, I will actually get to see my husband for a few hours. We're off to the GP's to see a nurse at 2pm, then the Chiropractor at 3.15pm and hopefully time to fit in a quick grocery shop en route.
The dressing has started to annoy me now - there is a tiny bit of swelling and it is feeling tight.
So, in I go to see the nurse and my GP is waiting. She saw that I had an appointment booked and wanted to come and say hi. I am hugely flattered, and very very touched.
Our conversation is only very brief, more of a quick "hi, how are you, sorry you've got cancer" than the in depth conversation I have planned for Monday 10th. Still, it is nice to have been thought of.
The nurse appears to remove the dressing and I confess I'm rather worried about it. We agree that if I start feeling queasy she will stop, and potentially help me to do it myself. It sounds daft but it might be easier for me to do it, I'm really quite nervous.
I lie down on the bed, and we start to remove the outer waterproof dressing. I feel a bit sick, but actually it comes off without any fuss.
The nurse pops back to her desk to check the computer system to see if there are any instructions for post operative care. Apparently, she also used to work with Mr Pain at the local private hospital (apparently he has a really large family and used to take some of his children to work with him on occasion) so has plenty of experience in this area. Good to know.
I chance a quick look as I'm still lying down. The wound is still covered up. I'm totally confused until I remember that there are steri-strips on top of the dissolveable stitches. Ugh. Have these got to come off too now? They look pretty stuck on to me.
I can't tell you how relieved I am when the nurse says that she would rather apply another water poof dressing until next week - she thinks it is too early to remove the steri-strips.
No argument from me.
Another waterproof dressing goes on, an appointment is booked for Tuesday (apparently the GP can't or won't remove the dressing on Monday) and off I run. Such a chicken.
We whizz off to the Chiropractor, having quickly purchased a few groceries to get us through the week.
I go in with my husband whilst he is being adjusted, as the Chiropractor, Tom also sees me and treated me for whiplash back in May/June/July. I confess that we have been a bit busy since he last saw me and tell him the reasons why. Better he knows now, rather than put him on the spot next time he is treating me/my back. I also want to know if he or his colleagues and recommend someone for lymphatic massage, which might help keep my right arm normal. He doesn't know anyone off the top of his head, but has some handy hints for dealing with the cording, which has been a bit of an issue. Stretching and massage apparently, so at least I know I am doing the right thing.
One thing I didn't expect was to feel upset after telling Tom. He's not someone I see that often, therefore falls into the bracket of someone I'd feel safe to tell. Normally. That was pre-op. Perhaps my thoughts have changed.
Oh god. How the hell am I going to cope with seeing people who know me really well, and my parents. They all know I've had a breast removed. Frick.
This is so irrational. Everyone knows that women have two breasts - we take it for granted. Why the fact that I now only have one is an issue, I don't know.
It is such a personal thing though. What are people looking at - do they somehow know I've got a falsie in my empty bra?
I have a horrible feeling that seeing people in the real world, outside my nice little cocoon that I suddenly seem to be growing used to, is going to be harder than I thought.
Yet another reason to have the reconstruction I suppose?
No comments:
Post a Comment