Un soupçon sojourn

Peaches and I have this little joke ...  that we are going to write a book called Soups of South Devon ... ‘cos each time we go for one of our ‘walks’ we pop into an eaterie for a warming bowl. Well at least I thought it was a joke.  I must admit I was little taken aback this week, when we had settled down for a leisurely lunch, and she announced with much authority, after a couple of slurps, that the celery and apple concoction was “very nice though it doesn’t have the subtle undertones of the turnip and sage”. I glanced up, smiling, but then realised she was being totally serious ...  That was Friday ... a pleasant outing following my series of hospital appointments the previous day ...

The envelope hit the door mat with a thud. The franking machine mark told me it was from the hospital even before I opened it. Inside there was half a dozen letters inviting me to various appointments ... my pre-op briefing; my pre-op one-to-one; my pre-anaesthetic review; my bloods and blood pressure; surgery and then, finally, the post-surgery meeting. I give it to my hospital ... they are co-ordinated ... and economical ... though it may have been a little less daunting if they had arrived separately ...

So on Thursday I toodled off for my first four appointments ... picking up Lil’sis on the way ... armed with her snack and drink we could have been going for a day out in Scarborough.  First appointment was the pre-op talk. There were three of us there ... me ... Gloria who was in her 60s and Gladys who must be 70-odd. The nurse handed out some info and talked about the surgery ... to be truthful she didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know ... but then again I have been hanging out in this parallel cancer world quite a lot longer than the other gals. Though ... having said that ... I was a bit shocked when she moved on to the post surgery stuff ... typical me, trying to run before I can walk, quite literally ...

“Now, after surgery and before you go home we want you to put a bra on. It is important that it doesn’t have underwire in it.” She must of caught the look on my face. When it comes to bras I don’t do two things ... padded ... what is that all about ... and non-wired. “You don’t have to buy one if you don’t have one” she assured quickly, “You can just remove the wire from an old bra. Alternatively a sports bra is ideal.” Well, I guess it would be, but even my sports bra is underwired.

“Talking of which, for those of you who are sporty you will need to refrain from activity for quite some time after surgery.” I glanced over at Gloria and Gladys who, quite frankly, didn’t seem too bothered by this news. “How long exactly?” I chipped in. “Three months”, she replied. “Three months?!” “Yes”, she responded. “What, including cycling?” “No cycling.” “What about swimming?” I asked, almost pleadingly. “No swimming.” “Walking?" I was now sounding desperate. “Oh walking is fine. We like walking”. Just was well I have them little red walking boots ...

"There is a fine line between doing your exercises and over doing it” she went on to say. “For example, you will need to limit your time on the computer keyboard to ten minutes.” Neither Gladys nor Gloria showed any emotion at this news ... whereas I gasped and let out a shocked and hushed “No!” “I guess you use a computer?” she enquired. “Oh yes” piped up Lil’sis, taking advantage of my state of shock. “Facebook. Oh and her blog.” “Oh, you have a blog?” enquired the nurse. “Oh yes” chattered Lil’sis, quite merrily, "she has people all over the world reading it."  I would have kicked her if I could ... but it wasn’t possible without everyone witnessing it. Yep, that is true ... guys from the US, Canada, France, Hong Kong ... even the Philippines ... but I wasn’t proposing to tell the people at my hospital, those who are treating and caring for me, that they are featuring in a weekly narrative ...

Done at the Breast Care Unit we then pottered off to outpatients for the other two appointments. “Hello, I am Staff Nurse A ... I need to get some info off you before your surgery ... it will take about 20 minutes ... is that OK? Right, can you jump on here so I can weigh you?” I grimaced. Between August and and December I did really well and managed to remain the same weight, but Killer Chemo not only had an impact on the lump ... but my scales too. It is what my friend Debby rather endearingly calls Chemo Chub.  Now, people often think that if you have cancer then you will lose weight ... and if you are very poorly this is the case ... but for the likes of me ... and many others... it ain’t.  That’s because of a number of reasons .... for starters there are the ruddy steroids ... then due to the chemo you look and feel rough so you are nowhere near as active as you were ... so you are stuck at home ... with your head in the fridge ... trying to find something you can eat which doesn’t taste like cardboard ... And then you have surgery and are told that you pretty much can’t do anything for three months ...

Staff Nurse A was right chirpy, breaking the monotony of the form filling by putting down her pen and telling little ditties.  "Have you had general anaesthetic before?" asked Staff Nurse A.  "Yes. I started talking rubbish as I went under" I admitted. “Well” she replied, “I have a funny story about that” putting her pen down once more. “A while ago an elderly lady came in ... she was really posh ... well spoken ... pearls ... quite prim. We were talking about her previous surgery and she gripped her clutch bag, which was resting on her lap, and leant forward and told me in hushed tones what had happened when she was coming out round from the anaesthetic.” “I don’t know what came over me. Apparently I shouted: Right Mr P, all done you can now ‘eff’ off home.” Staff Nurse A said “I was quite shocked. I didn’t even think Mrs Windsor would know the word. Apparently Mr P was not offended and left a note next to her bed which said: Dear Mrs Windsor, I have now effed off home like you told me. I will see you in the morning."

Staff Nurse A picked up her pen and wrote some more before going on to describe what will happen on surgery day.  “Now, you might be able to keep your knickers on during surgery.” Err ... I didn’t realise that I might not. “So make sure the ones you are wearing don’t have any studs or sequins.” Studs ... or sequins ... nah ... I don’t do padded or non-wired ... nor studs or sequins.

So ... with only a few days to go until surgery ... how do I feel? Surprisingly, not too bad ... though admittedly I am not thinking about it too much. When I do ... I console myself that I am having a breast reduction ... just like thousands of other women do each year ... and who do it voluntarily. But of course in reality my situation is a bit different ... as my breast reduction also includes the removal of the now grape-like-sized Yukky Lump ... and some nodes under my armpit ... which probably means I will be carting a fluid drain around for a while. But then again ... for the first time in  seven months I will ... touch wood ... be able to say that I am cancer-free.

However, to be truthful, rather than surgery I am probably more apprehensive of my follow up appointment with Dr Jordan, which is to take place a few days after surgery. That is when and where he will tell me whether he has successfully removed the lump and enough healthy tissue around it. If that is not the case then I will have to return to the hospital and he will operate once more ... but would do a mastectomy ... and remove the whole breast ...

A meeting that might be rather embarrassing if I start talking under anaesthetic ... ...

“Dr Jordan ... well you are Dr Jordan in my blog ... 'Jordan' because you are my boob man ... can I have your opinion ... knickers ... surely lacy is preferable to studs ... and hospital lunch tomorrow ... would you go for cream of mushroom ... or French onion ....”