I’m a bit on the squeamish side when it comes to injuries, especially my own, so I asked the Breast Care Nurse to remove my dressing rather than go through my GP’s practice nurse or do it myself.
One of the things about health issues that is seriously lacking in this country is the continuance of care. I am rarely ill, and for something like breast cancer, I want to see familiar faces and build up a relationship with my doctors and carers. It helps me cope seeing them as ‘friends’ and also I want to be told how it is, not pussy footed around with niceties.
As she was removing the clingfilm type dressing, I was happily filling her in on doing my exercises and how I felt in general, carefully keeping my eyes averted from where she was working.
‘That’s lovely,’ she said, sitting back with a big smile as I tentatively looked down.
I must be one of the jammiest people alive.
Apart from a thin pencil-like line, you would never know I’d had surgery a week ago.
It’s a credit to my Consultant Surgeon how tidy the wound was, and the fact that there is no puckering, no swelling, no pin prick dots or scarring (dissolvable stitches) and no jagged weeping area.
Hubby couldn’t believe it, and said he has never known anyone heal as quickly as I do.
(I’m the type of gal who has a tooth out but doesn’t have a mouthful of blood or clot the following day. By day two, I’d be eating normally with no tenderness, and the remaining tooth guys would pull together to close the gap, so my extracted tooth was a ‘myth’ rather than missing.)
My only remaining smurf likeness is a blue nipple which I am likely to have for a while.
The wire they inserted to react to the blue dye was removed along with Humphrey and a couple of lymph nodes, so I don’t have to worry about that, and tomorrow I can have a shower (Hurrah!) and begin my stretchy exercises.
The sports bras are recommended day and night for another week, and then next Wednesday (16th) I shall see my nurse and Consultant to discuss how we move on.