The Bald Woman's Blog: Part Eight
Su Candy prepares for her breast cancer op in hospital and meets Mrs Boss Woman and her husband, Mr Downtrodden
That hospital visit
I have been dreading and yet looking forward to this day. Today I will get this thing out of me and that part will be over.
I have decided to let Alan go off to work as I will be flitting here and there and I need to keep my mind occupied, which I know I can do by taking notes for my diary mentally.
I arrive early at the L&D Hospital, make my way to the toilet and then to Nuclear Medicine. There is no label on the door so I stick my head round but apart from one other lady and her husband, it's empty.
"We're too early," she announces. "There's no one here yet – you can sit with me." We exchange pleasantries and I quickly realise that I have encountered Mrs Boss Woman, well, the Boss of her husband ("Move over and let her sit here!") and the budding Boss of me!
Mrs Boss Woman goes on to explain exactly what will happen and how and in which order, me first, then you, I can look after you, then. I thank her, she means well, I suppose, and company can be good if you're in the same boat.
Duly, she goes in first and returns with a "see you at the clinic in a moment – you do know the way, don't you"? I signal yes and run in to have my boob injected with blue dye. Phew, it doesn't hurt too much but I need the toilet (again).
I go to the clinic via the toilet and consequently miss Mrs Boss Woman, as I've taken a different route. Stupidly, I hadn't realised I would need to walk this far (the clinic is down the road) and I have no coat and my overnight bag is quite heavy (everything just in case).
Never mind, there's no rush and I sort of know where I am, although this is not the entrance I thought it was. After a little wandering feeling slightly lost but not panicking I hear a familiar voice.
"I knew you'd get lost, it's down here, I knew you'd need me. Here, take her bag," (to the husband – small man, slightly drooped walk)and Mrs Boss Woman takes me firmly under control and marches me down to the clinic.
She checks us both in...how did she do that...and tells the nurse I am useless at finding my way round and could she arrange for my appointment to follow hers so she can keep an eye on me....what...???!!!!!
I am sat down between her and the husband and firmly talked to relentlessly for at least half an hour while we wait. I steal a look at Mr Downtrodden and catch a look that's almost apologetic! She is called in and announces she will wait for me and I must wait for her.
The husband and I look at each other; we do not want to talk! I am called in a few minutes later and I try to retrieve my bag from this poor man – at least I can unburden him of me. He shakes his head and grasps the handles firmly – orders are orders, he says. I don't know whether I feel sorrier for him or me, I mean, these things always seem to happen to me but at least I eventually walk away from them!
In the inner sanctum of the clinic I am again reunited with Dr Two Names. This time I am not so traumatised and we are able to talk and even laugh about things. I tell him I am writing a cancer diary but I will change the names to protect the innocent.
We chat whilst he locates the alien and traps it, ready to inject the anaesthetic. My breast feels hot from the other injection and I feel hot from Mrs Bossy, but otherwise fine. I was slightly unprepared for the tracking wire!
Having been numbed which was only slightly uncomfortable I am now being pulled and tugged whilst Dr Two Names inserts what looks like a granny's crochet needle into my alien.
It is a drawn-out process needing some precision placing and there is much pushing involved. No pain really but horribly uncomfy and somehow the sight of that thing sticking out of my breast just looks like I've had a really nasty accident.
It reminds me of a casualty patient who has fallen on a spear and I want to protect myself somehow from this "arrow". There is a final shove – that did hurt! – and I am pronounced done.
Thank you I say. What am I saying – does everyone thank you? "Yes", he says, "it's very British". I turn to go and he says: "By the way if the diary goes to film rights don't get Tom Cruise to play me, will you – I don't like him."
"Don't worry," I reply easing myself out of the door, "I know just who to get." "Oooh," he says, "who?" "Hugh Laurie," I shout back as I firmly close the door. I could hear them all laughing as I went.
Off to get another mammogram – what with this in me – yes – oh dear, I feel slightly sick now and very hot! Oh no! Out in the corridor is Mrs Boss Woman – waiting, also stabbed, there we are, bra-less, clutching our gowns around us, so I haven't escaped her. She is called away but declares that on the other side she will wait for me. Oh, I hope not, I think, but she does!
I am marched firmly back to the hospital, no chance for another wee, with my bag held by Mr Downtrodden and my arm held by Mrs Boss Woman. What has happened to me? I suspect her needs are much greater than mine and I have become her project for the day.
This is not good. I need to be my own person and think my own thoughts and I really have to get rid of her – this is not for me. With every step I take granny's crochet hook says hello and I feel sick and very hot, yet the day is cold and rainy. I need a cold drink and, of course, I can't have anything before the operation. I also have a headache coming.
I trudge miserably alongside Mrs Boss Woman carrying my X-ray and notes in a large brown folder and glance at my next instructions. Oh, I have to go to the Arrivals Room next; it conjures up pictures of Luton Airport but without the holiday!
Mrs Boss Woman exclaims it's Ward 21a next, then. Ding! Heaven's bell has just rung and my guardian angel has arrived. We are parted literally by the dividing of the path and as we part she shouts:"Come and find me when you're ready." "Oh I will," I lie, "don't worry about anything and good luck"!
Yes, oh yes, thank you, thank you. I am ecstatic, elated, exhausted, hot and worried but I'm free! In a way I feel sorry for her, but sorrier for her husband because unless she finds another victim today he's for it!
Watch out for Part Nine next week
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Thursday 09 February 2012
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