This time tomorrow and I’m hoping to have (finally) seen the back of what is left of my tumour.
It’s a morning operation with pretty much the same preparation as my lumpectomy, eight weeks ago; no food after midnight, no water after 6 am and arrival at the hospital by 7.30 am. Unlike the lumpectomy however, I will be staying in – at least for one night but maybe for up to three.
Consequently, I’ve had a busy day: cooking and cleaning my flat because I know I won’t be able to do much post surgery and packing my bag(s) for my hospital stay and subsequent recovery at Mr. P’s.
In fact, I’ve had a busy couple of weeks. Since coming back from Italy two weeks ago, I’ve had so many hospital appointments that I’ve really lost track of what tests I’ve had where but, suffice to say, that I know I’ve had blood taken and surgical swabs up stuck up my nose at nearly every hospital in west London.
Last week, I also had to have an ECG – the first one I’ve had since before my chemotherapy started back in February. (ECG’s are a strange thing; a bit like being wired up with jump leads). But apart from having low-ish blood pressure and a mild skin infection (now treated) – they’ve declared me fit for surgery.
It does feel weird, as I look down at my chest, to think that my boob (including nipple) will soon be gone. But, as Mr P. and others remind me, it’s just the ‘filling’ they’re taking away – and with it cancer too.
However, I will still shed a tear for my errant boob even though it’s caused me nothing but trouble for the last eight months.
So, so long ‘righty’. It’s been emotional ...