Ready, set...
Aug. 30th, 2024 07:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootOk, tests done, mammogram done, marker two in. Now time to prepare my daybag - time to actually get one in the first place - and we are almost on our way to the op.
My hair needs cutting badly, but I am finding it hard to do anything. It's as though Poor Donkey Body has finally had enough. Meetings and events and parties and Wales and Vietnam and Cambodia and the Local Place Plan and Lancashire and the crash and the Festival and the Fringe, all so much I can't believe it. But I cannot ask for any more fortitude from her.
I now have a gum abscess, and poor Biggie needed the vet. Done, sorted. Now my hair needs - but Poor Donkey Body says no. And if I push? She'll not have it. No more pushing. It really is time to stop.
The blood test came with Nurse Who Has All The Information, the kind of nurse who's been doing this since 1985 and generally sleeps in the hospital supply cupboard. She looked at me with unimpressed eyes, told me everything, then fcked up taking blood and left two bloody great holes in my arm. OK, the holes have disappeared, so maybe it wasn't that bad, but it was more painful and protracted than usual.
Then came the ultrasound, in went the marker, which hurt. Poor Donkey Body really does not like these. She comes up in a rash, she itches, she develops a high temperature for a day or two. That's where I am now, though the temperature is coming down. Then came the mammogram to make sure it's all in the right place.
A couple of friends with issues like mine though much more severe have shared a Guardian article with the heady title 'Why I'm not pretending I haven't Lost My Breasts To Cancer.' Jaysus. If misery was removed from the Earth in one fell swoop, the Guardian would decamp to Mars to find some. Still, if this piece brings strength and satisfaction to my friends, so be it. Whatever gets you to where you need to be gets a thumbs up from me.
The article protests against undue pressure placed on women to look a certain way and cites how this may happen with regard to breast cancer survivors. Personally, my conclusion is that though it is a very complex issue with many aspects, response to it may well be shaped by one's feelings about one's body. If happy with the way things were prior to the op, there's a reasonable chance one will want one's body to be as close to that situation as is safe and possible. There's no shame in that, same as there's no shame as deciding against reconstruction or prosthetics or whatever. One should have all the options outlined accurately and without pressure before any decision is made. At this point the only things that matter are being healthy and feeling at ease with oneself after trauma.
R was suggesting we take off to Rhodes for a couple of days after the op just so I can sit in the sun. It sounds wonderful but Rhodes is for exploring and I must sleep a good long while. We might go down to Lindisfarne or Alnwick for a day ... Why am I saying these things? If I am too tired for a chair in the kindly Greek sun, I am too tired for the winds of Northumbria. Am I really so exhausted?
Poor Donkey Body doesn't even bother to reply.
My hair needs cutting badly, but I am finding it hard to do anything. It's as though Poor Donkey Body has finally had enough. Meetings and events and parties and Wales and Vietnam and Cambodia and the Local Place Plan and Lancashire and the crash and the Festival and the Fringe, all so much I can't believe it. But I cannot ask for any more fortitude from her.
I now have a gum abscess, and poor Biggie needed the vet. Done, sorted. Now my hair needs - but Poor Donkey Body says no. And if I push? She'll not have it. No more pushing. It really is time to stop.
The blood test came with Nurse Who Has All The Information, the kind of nurse who's been doing this since 1985 and generally sleeps in the hospital supply cupboard. She looked at me with unimpressed eyes, told me everything, then fcked up taking blood and left two bloody great holes in my arm. OK, the holes have disappeared, so maybe it wasn't that bad, but it was more painful and protracted than usual.
Then came the ultrasound, in went the marker, which hurt. Poor Donkey Body really does not like these. She comes up in a rash, she itches, she develops a high temperature for a day or two. That's where I am now, though the temperature is coming down. Then came the mammogram to make sure it's all in the right place.
A couple of friends with issues like mine though much more severe have shared a Guardian article with the heady title 'Why I'm not pretending I haven't Lost My Breasts To Cancer.' Jaysus. If misery was removed from the Earth in one fell swoop, the Guardian would decamp to Mars to find some. Still, if this piece brings strength and satisfaction to my friends, so be it. Whatever gets you to where you need to be gets a thumbs up from me.
The article protests against undue pressure placed on women to look a certain way and cites how this may happen with regard to breast cancer survivors. Personally, my conclusion is that though it is a very complex issue with many aspects, response to it may well be shaped by one's feelings about one's body. If happy with the way things were prior to the op, there's a reasonable chance one will want one's body to be as close to that situation as is safe and possible. There's no shame in that, same as there's no shame as deciding against reconstruction or prosthetics or whatever. One should have all the options outlined accurately and without pressure before any decision is made. At this point the only things that matter are being healthy and feeling at ease with oneself after trauma.
R was suggesting we take off to Rhodes for a couple of days after the op just so I can sit in the sun. It sounds wonderful but Rhodes is for exploring and I must sleep a good long while. We might go down to Lindisfarne or Alnwick for a day ... Why am I saying these things? If I am too tired for a chair in the kindly Greek sun, I am too tired for the winds of Northumbria. Am I really so exhausted?
Poor Donkey Body doesn't even bother to reply.
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no subject
Date: 2024-08-30 02:56 pm (UTC)Sending ooodles & ooodles of love to Donkey Body. And to you. 😀
no subject
Date: 2024-08-31 12:38 pm (UTC)