It is also the week that Uppity was born.
I turned my head away from Uppity in the beginning. But I am happy that every cell of her is mine. She is blue and yellow; train tracks run underneath her and also around her black grafted nipple. She throbs like she has her own heart. When I let her soreness grow, Uppity is as heavy as a sack of spuds and I cradle her in my hand. The nurses scold me for being mean with the pain killers so now like a military operation I swallow some every two hours. My dad's reply only when I laugh rings in my ears every time someone asks if it hurts!
I decide to name Uppity's sister Dippy...
I felt cradled and safe in hospital and met some gentle kind staff... an arm around my shoulder when I could no longer keep tears trapped inside... questions answered with facts...tablets given as soon as pain peeked its head out.
The dark haired, smiley male doctor tells me a sports bra will help squash the swelling and ease the pain when I move. Swimming Sue arrives M&S bag in hand. Mr H, Sue and the ward housekeeper leaning on her broom, giggle as with rolling eyes I pull the monstrosities out one by one...
Chats with hospital staff have kept me entertained; a shared love of Lindt chocolate;...when I first trained the turn back on the sheet had to be the length of Matrons forearm...but I am left bemused when a nurse shares tales of his African adventures and says: everyone should snog a giraffe once in their life!
Before we head for home my Breast Care Nurse and Surgeon bring The news...
The cancer in the ducts has already formed a tumour and has cheekily swum its way into your lymph node...you have grade 2 invasive ductal carcinoma...
I see an oncologist in a week...
My exhaustion consumes but I still want to blog. To write, sharing my news calms my mind.
That and our Peach Tree blossom.
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